


All This and Heaven Too

by kkenobi



Series: As Much As I Ever Could [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Satine Kryze, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Sith being Sith, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkenobi/pseuds/kkenobi
Summary: "Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order" - Obi-Wan Kenobi in Voyage of Temptation, speaking to Duchess Satine Kryze.A/B/O AU, where Obi-Wan leaves the Jedi Order as a Padawan to become the Duke of Mandalore. The Force has its ways though, and still leads him to a remarkable child named Anakin, puts him in the galactic spotlight. and makes him fight for his life on several occasions.It also puts him directly in the path of a very intrigued Alpha Darth Sidious, who won't rest until he has his own dynasty.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just a FYI, I'm using DD/MM/YY for the dates!

**_19/12/41 BBY, mid afternoon_ **

**_In the ruins of the Sundari Royal Palace_ **

**_Mandalore_ **

 

\---

 

Obi-Wan hugged his master tightly, twisting the worn fabric of Qui-Gon’s robe in his fists, unwilling to let the man go.  He blinked back tears, angry at himself for crying. He knew he was doing the right thing. He could feel the rightness of his decision in the Force.  The Unifying Force felt brighter now that he was set on his course of action. Qui-Gon could sense it as well, for all he ignored the Unifying Force and focused on the present.  Even he could not ignore how much brighter the Force felt. 

 

And yet… 

 

He was still leaving the Jedi Order, leaving his home and his family behind, to live a life he’d never thought he’d lead.  

 

A gentle hand caressed his hair, grown out of the horrid padawan cut from their year on the run through the wilds of Mandalore and its moon, Concordia.  “Do you want to go back with him?” Satine asked softly, still running her long fingers through his hair. 

 

Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath, tempted by the offer.  He could explain things to the council himself, say goodbye to his friends, pack his meagre belongs, and then return to Satine and help her rebuild Mandalore from the devastation of civil war.

 

He shook his head, finally pulling away from his Master.  Qui-Gon gave him a sad, yet understanding look, and pulled on his Padawan braid gently in an affectionate gesture.  

 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, voice firm despite her tumultuous emotions.  “I should be with you,” he continued, turning to look at his intended.  

 

Her pale blond hair was tied in a simple braid down her back, and she was much too thin after their year on the run.  She was looking at him with so much kindness and love in her eyes that it hurt to look at. Now that they had essentially given themselves permission to show their feeling for one another, she had stopped trying to hide her emotions.  It terrified Obi-Wan that someone could feel so strongly about him, and his feeling for her scared him in return. Though he was an omega, he’d never thought he’d bond with anyone. 

 

Especially not with an alpha like Satine. 

 

He reluctantly unclenched his hands from Qui-Gon’s robes, stepping back and allowing Satine’s taller form to shelter him from the cold wind. “You’ll speak to the council on my behalf?”  

 

Qui-Gon nodded, shouldering his pack.  “Of course,” he rumbled. “Once communications are up and reliable they’ll expect your comm,” he needlessly reminded him.  

 

Satine inclined her chin to him, regal despite her disheveled appearance.  “I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss with the council,” she said wryly. 

 

Obi-Wan’s lips quirked up in a smile.  That was the understatement of the century.  Padawans did left the order, albeit relatively rarely.  He didn’t think any had left the under these circumstances though. 

 

He almost pitied the council.  

 

Qui-Gon smiled at Satine, having grown to respect and like the girl (woman, now) that he’d spent the past year with.  She was strong, yet kind, and fierce in her beliefs. More importantly (at least to him) she clearly loved Obi-Wan with all her heart and soul.  He turned to look at his apprentice, knowing that he had to leave for Coruscant, leaving the young man behind. The pilot of his hired transport already looked frustrated at being made to wait.

 

Satine, ever observant, let Obi-Wan go, before taking a step back to talk with her sister Bo-Katan and one of her key supporters, Cabor Baro.  Qui-Gon noticed that she kept her eyes on Obi-Wan though, even when she started talking to the other two alphas. 

 

Obi-Wan ignored her protective gaze, staring at Qui-Gon with wide sea green eyes.  

 

Qui-Gon dropped to his knees in front of him, startling the boy.  

 

“We are all instruments of the Force, little one,” he said, reverting to his old nickname.  “You are where the Force has willed you to be, and the Force will never lead you astray.” 

 

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly, eyes still far to wide.  

 

Qui-Gon quirked a grin.  “It brings me great sorrow to leave you here,” he admitted, putting his large hands on Obi-Wan’s skinny shoulders, noting that they all needed several good meals.  “But you’ll be happy here,” he continued, knowing it in his bones.

 

Obi-Wan licked chapped lips.  “I’m scared, Master.” 

 

“I know, and you have every right to be.  The world you grew up with is changing. You are no longer Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order, but His Grace Obi-Wan Kenobi, future Duke of Mandalore.”  

 

Obi-Wan grimaced.  

 

“And,” Qui-Gon continued, knowing that Obi-Wan was uncomfortable with his future status.  “Satine looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky,” he said. He knew that the boy would be safe, loved, and happy.  No matter his nerves now at the thought of leaving the Order, Obi-Wan truly did love Satine. Qui-Gon had seen their hesitant relationship bloom over the past year, and saw how they glowed in the Force together.  Satine’s own midichlorian count was too low to have been accepted into the Jedi Temple, but she was by no means a null. They shone together in the Force, having formed a fledgling soul bond after knowing each other for only a few weeks. Their year together through the moons of Mandalore had only strengthened their connection. Now that they could focus on their bond, Qui-Gon knew it would be one of the greatest the universe had ever seen.  

 

Obi-Wan blushed, as Qui-Gon knew he would.  

 

Qui-Gon stood again, pulling the boy he had grown to love as a son in for one last hug.  “This will hardly be the last time we see each other child,” he noted as he stepped away.  

 

“I know, Master,” Obi-Wan sniffed.  He looked behind him, meeting Satine’s concerned gaze, before turning back to his now former Master.  He bowed low, before presenting a knife to Qui-Gon. 

 

Qui-Gon started in surprise, before taking it with suddenly shaking hands.  It was a plain knife, one that Obi-Wan had kept on his person for the past year, used when lightsabers would be too obvious. Turning it over, he blinked as tears blurred his eyes.  “Are you sure?” He asked somberly. 

 

Obi-Wan nodded, shoulders tense.  

 

Qui-Gon bowed formally to Obi-Wan, who stood still in the cold wind, before bringing up the blade to cut the thin symbol of his apprenticeship.  The tawny braid fell limp in his large palm. Wordlessly, Qui-Gon offered it to Obi-Wan. 

 

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “You take it,” he whispered, reaching back towards Satine with one hand.  She left her sister and Cabor so quickly Qui-Gon wondered if she’d somehow used Force enhanced speed, grasping Obi-Wan’s trembling hand tightly in her own.  

 

Qui-Gon unashamedly let several tears fall.  “I do not deserve this,” he whispered shakily, bring up a broad palm to cup Obi-Wan’s pale face, running his thumb over the cleft chin.  “You are a much stronger man than I.” 

 

Obi-Wan smiled.  “All a credit to you, Master,” he said, before frowning.  

 

“You are always welcome to call me Master, Padawan,” he said, correctly interpreting Obi-Wan’s frown.  “But you can also call me by my name, you know.” 

 

Obi-Wan giggled, scandalized as many Jedi young were at breaking propriety.  

 

“Oi, you coming or not?!” The pilot of his transport shouted suddenly, breaking the moment of serenity. The Dressilian man had reached the end of his patience for Qui-Gon’s drawn out farewell. 

 

Obi-Wan bit his lip, cutting off his laughter.  Satine pulled him closer to her side, kissing the top of his head comfortingly.  

 

“May the Force be with you, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan said formally, bowing as much as he could from within Satine’s embrace.

 

Qui-Gon bowed back, feeling proud enough to burst. 

 

“And with you, Your Grace,” he replied, walking up the ramp to the transport, leaving his former Padawan on wartorn Mandalore.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline is important-ish. There aren't any serious time jumps, but there will be in future chapters. I am also messing around with Mandalorian history/customs a bit. They're still based on canon, but expanded to suit the needs of this fic.

**_25/12/41 BBY - late evening_ **

**_Jedi Temple, High Council Chambers_ **

**_Coruscant_ **

 

\----------

 

Master Yoda closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel a moment of grief before surrendering the emotion to the force.  

 

Expected this, he had not.

 

“A great loss, this is, for the Jedi Order,” he finally said as he opened his eyes. “Replace me, one day, I thought he would.”

 

Beside him, Mace Windu grimaced, exchanging a look with his former Padawan, Jedi Master Depa Billaba.

 

Before his former creche-mate could get a word in edgewise, Qui-Gon Jinn interrupted.  “Loath as I am to admit it,” he started, clasping his hands behind his back when the full attention of the High Council was on him.  “The Force seemed…” he closed his eyes, searching for the right way to phrase this. “The Force seemed… right,” he finished awkwardly. “Obi-Wan will be better able to serve the will of the Force as Duke of Mandalore then as a Jedi.”

 

Plo Koon frowned behind his mask, focusing on the metaphysical threads just out of reach to most beings, studying them intently.  His fellow councilors watched him with interest.

 

Finally, Plo smiled, a slight crinkling of the orange skin around his goggles.  “Yes it does,” he murmured. He looked over at Qui-Gon, who stood in the centre of the room with a frown on his leonine face.  “Qui-Gon?”

 

“Obi-Wan knows this is the path he needs to follow.  We all have seen how strong he is in the Force,” he reminded the council, pausing as they nodded and murmured in agreement.   “His leaving is a great loss for the order, for all that it is a boon for the Mandalore System.” He paused again, gathering his emotions.  “He has asked, and I’m sure will put through a comm once the communication systems are more reliable, that he is still able to learn from you in particular Master,” he finished, inclining his head towards Yoda.  

 

The ancient Jedi’s eyes raised in surprise.

 

“Why?” Adi Gallia asked, curiosity in her voice.  Though uncommon, Padawans did occasionally leave the Order for one reason or another.  Knights more so, especially once they’d seen the endless violence, war, and pain that was so prevalent in the galaxy.  Most drifted off and settled down, some joined the corps, and other they never heard from again. Very few remained in contact with the Order.

 

Qui-Gon allowed his emotions to show on his face, eyebrows knitted together in deep concern.  “His prescience is flaring up,” he stated flatly. “As is his connection to the Unifying Force.”  

 

Saesin Tiin stirred in his chair. “How badly?”

 

“Bad enough,” Qui-Gon grimaced, remembering visions that had left his young Padawan screaming and crying.  Poor Satine had been frantic with worry, and he had not been much better, as they’d both tried to help Obi-Wan calm down and articulate what was wrong.

 

Mace and Yoda exchanged a deeply concerned look.  “Did this influence his leaving the Order?” Mace demanded.  

 

Qui-Gon shook his head slowly.  “In a sense, I suppose,” he explained.  “But he and I talked it over between the two of us, and” he smiled, “you all know my opinion on relying on visions.”  

 

Several councilors chuckled despite the sombre feeling in the room.  That they did.

 

Qui-Gon let out a harsh breath.  “Masters,” he said bluntly. “We can all feel in the Force that this was the right decision for him to make, no matter how much a loss it is to the Order. At this point we are talking in circles and accomplishing nothing.”  

 

Eeth Koth coughed to cover up a laugh.   “I suppose the only question left if whether or not we allow him lessons from the Grandmaster of the Order, among others,” he said wryly.    


“I don’t see why not,” Mace stated, fingers steepled under his chin.  “He isn’t leaving because he rejects the teachings of the Order or has been expelled, but because he is following the will of the Force. And the Order has worked with individuals who are not a part of it before. It’s just rare.”  He pointed out, dark eyebrows furrowed in thought.

 

“He was certainly disappointed to be leaving, to put it lightly,” Qui-Gon said softly, remember the look on his (former) padawan’s face when Qui-Gon entered his transport, leaving him behind with Satine and her retinue in the ruins of the Sundari Royal Palace.  

 

Depa Billaba shot him a look of deep concern.  “Qui-Gon,” she started, clearly gathering her thoughts.  “Is Obi-Wan _happy_ to have left?”  

 

Mace sat up sharply, taking a deep breath through his nose when he felt his instincts flare.  From across the room, Depa gave her former Master an apologetic glance. While Mace was normally well equipped to control his alpha instincts, the idea of an omega being coerced into leaving the Order (or coerced in any way) was one that temporarily overrode all of his training.

 

“We all know how strong Obi-Wan is in the Force,” Depa continued.  “And how much he wants… wanted… to be a Jedi. The Force seems to favour him.  I am not saying he did not do the right thing logically or the right thing for Mandalore itself, but think I, as well as my fellow councilors, would like to be reassured that this is what Obi-Wan wants to do.  He is the only omega currently in the order. And Duchess Satine Kryze is an alpha.”

 

“You won’t need to mount a rescue mission, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Qui-Gon said wryly.  “The new Duchess of Mandalore and Obi-Wan have an amazing connection,” he continued.

 

“Soul bond potential, there is?”  

 

Qui-Gon considered the ancient Master’s questions carefully, ignoring the intense look the sole alpha council member was giving him.  Force, he’d forgotten how difficult those with secondary genders could be when their instincts overrode their logic. At least Obi-Wan was an omega.  Alpha’s, he felt, could be entirely overbearing.

 

Especially if they were concerned for an omega they considered to be pack.  

 

He shook himself, thinking back to the questions at hand.  “Yes,” he said finally. “Obi-Wan was certainly interested in the Duchess.  And,” he smiled, “Duchess Satine looked at him as though he was the sole inhabitant of the universe.  No matter his disappointment in leaving the Order, he will be loved, safe, and I believe happy, and as long as he continues some of his lessons he will still continue to grow in the Force.”

 

Some part of Qui-Gon had known the moment the two had met that his beloved apprentice would not be returning to Coruscant with him. The Force sang when they were together.  Obi-Wan had been stuttering and shy around Satine, who looked at him with such naked adoration that it made Qui-Gon’s heart ache.

 

Yes, the nineteen year old Duchess of Mandalore would treat his boy well.  

 

Yarael Poof snorted.  “As safe as one can be on Mandalore.”  

 

Mace growled at his fellow councilor, before visibly shaking himself, shooting an apologetic look at Yareal who blithely ignored him, used to Mace’s occasional fits of temper.  “We must also consider what this means for Mandalore itself,” he snapped.

 

Jocasta Nu tilted her head. “What do you think?” She asked Qui-Gon.   

 

Qui-Gon bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over his answer.  “I think,” he said slowly, “that Obi-Wan will balance the Duchess,” he finally continued.  “She is adamant in her ways, and unwilling to change her views. But Obi-Wan was able to get through to her.”  

 

Mace snorted, finally seeming to shake himself of his instincts now that he’d been reassured the only omega in the Order wasn’t in potential danger and beyond his protection.  “She’s an alpha,” he said with an eye roll. “If their connection is as strong as you say, she’ll listen to him when she’d listen to no one else.”

 

Qui-Gon allowed himself a smile.  “She already does,” he said. “She is willing to listen to Bo-Katan about her concerns, rather then dismissing them as outdated and violent.”

 

Eeth Koth eyebrows rose. “That’s a minor miracle,” he said.  The animosity between the two alpha sisters was fast becoming legendary in certain circles.

 

Qui-Gon nodded in agreement.  Obi-Wan, it seemed, was off to a good start as future Duke.  

 

Yaddle looked at Qui-Gon with expressive eyes.  “Rebuilt, do you believe Mandalore can be?”

 

Qui-Gon gave the question careful consideration.  “If the sisters continue to work together, and listen to what the other has to say, yes, it can be.  Satine is more cautious in many ways, but can be blind to the wants of the more traditional of her people, believing pacifism to be the right way forwards for Mandalore.  Bo-Katan does understand why Satine rejects traditional Mandalorian Culture, or,” he corrected himself, “at least the more violent side of their culture. However, she also is somewhat of a traditionalist herself and doesn’t want to see her culture completely destroyed as the new Duchess wishes it to be.”

 

Coleman Trebor snorted.  “You can’t get rid of a culture without backlash,” he noted.  Several councillors murmured in agreement, having seen the results of planets trying to do just that with oftentimes disastrous and deadly results.  

 

“Many on Mandalore are on Satine’s side,” Qui-Gon admitted.  “Especially after the deversation of the war. But, there will always be traditionalists, and once Mandalore is rebuilt, those numbers will only continue to grow.”  

 

“Do you think it will devolve into another war?” Mace asked.  

 

Qui-Gon shook his head.  “No, not if Obi-Wan manages to get the sisters to listen to one another and find a balance between their ideals, which considering what I saw before leaving, I believe he’ll be able to do.  It also helps,” he continued, cutting off an interruption by Agen Kolar, “that Obi-Wan wants to maintain parts of Mandalorian Culture. He’s on Bo-Katan’s side of many of the issues.”

 

Mace let out a snort, drawing the disapproving gaze of several of his fellow councillors.  He spread his hands in surrender. “If Obi-Wan’s on Bo-Katan’s side for some of the issues the battle’s already one,” he drawled, rolling his eyes at the beta’s and nulls in the room, considering the issue closed.  “There is, however, another issue that we need to discuss before things on Mandalore move forwards,” he pointed out.

 

Yoda hummed in agreement.  “Willing, Satine is, to speak with us about Obi-Wan?” He demanded to his grand-padawan.  

 

“They will be calling the High Council directly once communications on Mandalore are up and reliable,” Qui-Gon confirmed.  “Satine’s prepared to discuss how things between her and Obi-Wan will go forwards.”

 

Madam Nu nodded in approval.  “And what,” she asked, “are Satine and Obi-Wan expecting?”  

 

Qui-Gon folded his arms in his robe serenely.  “Tradition, Madam Nu,” he answered. “They discussed it together and presented their idea to both Bo-Katan and myself, and I do believe it will be the best way forwards.”  

 

His Master’s close friend Sifo-Dyas eyed him with a faint smile on his lined face.  “A traditional Mandalorian courtship is quite involved, at least for members of the ruling household,” he said in approval.  “Who is going to be acting as Kenobi’s guardian?”

 

Qui-Gon smirked.  “If you approve, the Jedi High Council.”  

 

Mace grinned, a sudden flash of teeth.  It was not a happy smile, but one that would send other alpha’s running for the hills.  “Good,” he declared. “Now,” he said, looking at each of his councillors in turn. “We will have much to discuss with the Duchess and her fellow Mandalorians.”  

 

\---------------

 

**_27/12/41 - morning_ **

**_Sundari Royal Palace_ **

**_Mandalore_ **

 

Obi-Wan shifted in place, standing between Satine and her sister, Bo-Katan, as Cabor tried to get a fix on the signal from Coruscant.  Bo-Katan gave him a smile, one with a feral edge and a lot of teeth. Obi-Wan had grown to like her in the relatively short time he’d known the alpha.  She was just a year and a half older then he was, in comparison to Satine’s three, and had a wicked sense of humour to balance her more violent side.

 

“That should do it,” Cabor murmured, giving the communications array one last pat. The technicians had managed to cobble together a system in record time, all things considered.  

 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, arms folded in front of him.  He longed for his Jedi robes, rather then the more traditional Mandalorian clothing he was wearing.  It was practical, as there were still rebels in Sundari and they all had to be prepared to defend themselves, but lacked the long robe and layers he was used to, and he couldn’t help but feel exposed.  

 

“Your Grace?”

 

Obi-Wan was startled out of his thoughts by Cabor looking at him, and gave himself a small shake.  Right. That was him. He stepped forwards, making his way through the mess of cables to input the codes that would connect him directly to the Jedi High Council’s secretary.  Judging by the time, the council should be nearly finished with their morning meeting. He hoped they wouldn’t mind his inturrupition. He stepped back when the comm began to make several odd noises as it worked to connect.  

 

Almost immediately the secretary's voice answered, “I’m patching you through to the council now, Padawan… errr Sir Kenobi” they said, foregoing manners. “You should be connected in less then a minute.”  

 

“Thank you, Padawan Tvee,” Obi-Wan said, recognising the voice on the other end of the comm.  

 

Olliand Tvee made a noise of acknowledgement, before cutting out.  In their place the blue forms of the council shimmered into an arc in from of them, the forms flickering with static.  

 

Obi-Wan bowed out of long standing habit.  Satine, Bo-Katan, and the rest of the Mandalorian who were to be a part of the discussions copied his movements, though Obi-Wan noticed that Pre Vizsla only inclined his head slightly, a haughty look on his face.  

 

“Padawan Kenobi,” Mace Windu started, fingers steepled under his chin as he stared at him with an intense expression on his face.  

 

“Pleased to see you, we are,” Yoda continued, glancing at Mace out of the corner of his large eyes with what looked to be irritation.  

 

Obi-Wan bowed again.  “I am pleased to see you as well, Masters.”  

 

Satine looked at the assembled council calmly, quite a feat considering they were meeting with the full council.  Obi-Wan wished he felt even half as calm as his fiancé. “Greetings, Master Jedi,” she said, inclining her head regally.

 

“Duchess Satine,” Adi Gallia acknowledged, inclining her head in return to the younger woman. Obi-Wan wondered idly what they looked like to the council.  They were all thin and tired, and their exhaustion showed despite their finery. Bo-Katan, in particular, looked as though she was ready to bite the first person who irritated her.  Obi-Wan knew he didn’t look much better, though probably looked as though he was going to collapse instead of bite someone. Satine was the only one who looked truly put together and collected, a feat in which Obi-Wan was duly jealous of and extremely impressed by.

 

He fidgeted with his sleeve, feeling uncomfortable and wishing that Qui-Gon was a part of this meeting.

 

“How feel you, Obi-Wan?”  

 

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised that Master Yoda was addressing him directly.  “I am fine, Master,” he said softly.

 

Yoda humphed.  “Tired, you all look,” he proclaimed.  “Keep this first meeting short and to the point, we will. Discuss details later, we can.”  

 

“We thank you for your consideration, Grandmaster Yoda,” Satine replied formally, even as she edged closer to Obi-Wan’s side.  

 

Jocasta Nu was smiling at them slightly, a look that made initiates in the archives flee in fear.  “Master Jinn has informed us that you wish to proceed with a traditional Mandalorian Courtship,” she stated, eyes locked on Satine, even as other council members regarded the assembled Mandalorians curiously.

 

Satine inclined her head in respect.  “Yes, Master,” she said. “Obi-Wan and I have discussed the matter with Master Jinn, as well as my sister Bo-Katan and several of my advisors,” she continued, guestering behind her to the group.  “We all feel that it is the best way to proceed, especially,” she added, “considering Obi-Wan’s status as former Jedi Padawan, and his age.”

 

Sifo-Dyas looked impressed, a small half smile on his lined face.  “You’ve certainly done your research,” he murmured.

 

Saesee Tiin coughed in amusement beside him, before giving Satine a searching look. “And you would ask that the Jedi Council act as Kenobi’s guardian?” He asked.  

 

Mace still hadn’t taken his eyes off Obi-Wan, who noticed he looked inordinately pleased at Saesee’s words.  

 

Well, his Master had warned him that Mace Windu, as one of the few alpha’s in the Order, would be suspicious of the circumstances in which he’d left the Jedi.  Obi-Wan gave the alpha a small smile, wanting to show that he was safe and as happy as he could be given the circumstances. When he had presented as an omega he’d been barely fourteen, and he and Master Qui-Gon had been on a joint mission with Master Windu.  Qui-Gon had barely known what to do when facing Obi-Wan’s pain and distress while presenting, so Mace had taken over. He’d held the shaking teen in his lap, soothing him with the Force and alpha pheromones meant to calm a distressed omega. Since then he and Obi-Wan had been very close, Obi-Wan seeing the alpha as something like a parent or elder sibling.  Mace, in turn, had helped Qui-Gon understand the needs of his newly presented apprentice, and become rather protective of the omega, as all alpha’s were wont to do.

 

Obi-Wan wryly though he should be concerned for Satine.  Mace Windu was certainly a formidable man.

 

Satine bowed again.  “If you would consent, yes,” she answered simply.  A stray lock of hair blew in her face. “Considering Mandalore’s rather precarious position we all feel that it would be for the best.”  

 

Mace finally took his eyes off of Obi-Wan, as though finally assured he was safe enough for the time being.  “And if the council accepts?”

 

“We would ask that a representative from the Jedi would be able to act in the council’s steed here on Mandalore,” Cabor said, meeting the other alpha’s eyes camly.  “To act as the future Duke’s guardian, and to report back to the council. They would,” he continued, “be granted full access to Mandalore, and be able to act His Grace’s best interests.”  

 

“As Obi-Wan is only sixteen,” Satine continued, “under a Mandalorian courtship he will need to be shadowed by a guardian at all times. At the moment the Chief of Security, Cabor Baro, is fulfilling this role.”

 

“It is a role traditionally taken by a sibling or close relative, is it not?” Depa Billaba asked, one finger resting on her chin contemplatively.  

 

Baro nodded.  “Yes, Master,” he stated.  “There are oaths one can take if an underage omega has no family to stand for them, but in these circumstances Mandalore would be more accepting if there is a representative from the Jedi as well.”  

 

“As well?” Yareal Poof asked curiously.  

 

“Baro will continue to act as a guardian for Obi-Wan.” Bo-Katan spoke up from her position slightly behind her sister.  “Mandalore will be accepting of him, and see his guarding Obi-Wan as the betrothal progresses as Obi-Wan being accepting of one of the old Mandalorian Clans.  The Jedi Order having a representative as a guardian will show your acceptance of the situation, and hopefully lessen the historical tensions between us and the Jedi Order.”  

 

Oppo Rancisis snorted.  “You’ve certainly thought all this out,” he cackled.  

 

Satine smiled at Obi-Wan, who bit his lip to stop from grinning at her in return.  He took her hand under the watchful eyes of the assembled council and Cabor. “Ideally,” he said, “Mandalore will become part of the Republic,” he explained.  “We have already spoken to several potential candidates who are interested in becoming Senator on Mandalore’s behalf, and Satine is willing to speak to the Senate as well once the situation on Mandalore is more stable.”

 

Even Yoda looked surprised, his eyes widened in glee.  

 

“And you?” Mace asked.

 

Obi-Wan smiled slightly.  “According to Mandalorian laws, I will not be a citizen until Satine and I are married, and therefore will not be able to act as a representative for Mandalore in the Senate until then.”

 

Mace raised an eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed, before turning his ire on Satine.  

 

“Officially, Obi-Wan will be an advisor until he is ennobled as Duke on the event of our marriage. He will have say in the government as well as in the restructuring of Mandalore.”

 

“Mandalore does not hold with the ridiculous ideas many planets have concerning omega’s,” Bo-Katan pointed out, rolling her eyes.   “We respect strength. The only reason Mandalore would not allow him to act on our behalf in the senate is his age and lack of citizenship, not his secondary gender.”  

 

Several councillors raised their eyebrows at her, though Obi-Wan noticed  Mace and Yoda were giving her approving looks.

 

“Once I am eighteen the High Council can officially decide whether or not to allow our marriage,” he continued. “Though if at anytime before then the Jedi representative feels I am in danger, or that Satine does not have my best interests at heart, they can either leave with me immediately or challange Satine to a duel with no political or social ramifications.”

 

Satine squeezed his hand.  “If the representative declares me to be an unfit mate I will abdicate as ruler of Mandalore, and Bo-Katan will become Duchess in my place.”  She smiled at several looks of surprise from the council. “Mandalorians respect omega’s, and those who treat them poorly are seen as unfit.”

 

Mace grinned.  “I like this,” he said, dark eyes flashing.  

 

Depa rolled her eyes at her master.  “Of course you do,” she sighed. “I do, however, agree with Master Windu.  It also seems as though the Order and Obi-Wan are getting the better end of this negotiation.”

 

Satine smiled.  “Mandalore has a higher percentage of alpha and omega’s then other systems,” she explained.  “The laws involving courtship and omega rights are extensive, and always favour the omega in any partnership.  As Obi-Wan official guardian, the Jedi Council will hold nearly all of the power in this courtship.”

 

Jocasta Nu looked smug. She had always liked Obi-Wan, and was sure to be pleased with the turn of events.  “I think the council is in agreement,” she said. Several councilors nodded in agreement, looking pleased by the discussion.   

 

“When will the Jedi be able to send a representative?” Tvan Atar asked, speaking up for the first time from his position beside Almac.  

 

“We could send someone within the day,” Adi Gallia replied. “If that is not to soon for Mandalore.”  

 

Bo-Katan snorted.  “The sooner the better, Masters.”  

 

Satine gave her sister an annoyed look out of the corner of her ice blue eyes.  “Despite my sister’s rudeness, she is correct. We cannot start a courtship until Obi-Wan is either declared a ward of Mandalore, or has a guardian from his family present.  As he was given to the Order as an infant, that role falls to you. If you had chosen not to accept he would have been declared an orphan, and Cabor would have become his official guardian as a member of an ancient Mandalorian Clan.”

 

Mace and Yoda stared at each other, before turning as one to stare down the Duchess.  Obi-Wan wanted to fidget on her behalf. Mace had never looked at him with such an intense expression, and it was rather intimidating.  Satine, to her credit, only raised her chin higher and looked at Mace stonily.

 

“We will send a representative today,” Mace declared.  “They should be on Mandalore in less then a standard week. Once they are their we can also discuss the future of your education in the Force Obi-Wan,”  he continued as their forms flickered again, the rigged communication system beginning to fail.

 

Some of the tension left the assembled Mandalorian’s shoulders, and Satine gave a relieved smile.  

 

“We look forwards to their arrival,” Obi-Wan said, speaking for Satine.

 

“Yes,” Pre Vizsla's oily voice agreed as he spoke for the first time.  “We wish them a pleasant journey. May I ask who will be joining us?” he sniffed.  

 

Several council members exchanged looks.  “Undecided, that is,” Yoda declared. “Discuss it more, we shall.”  

 

Bo-Katan cut Vizsla off before he could speak. “We understand,” she declared, glaring at the older alpha.

 

Obi-Wan bowed to the assembled council.  “Thank you for your time, Master’s” he said, giving them another small smile.  

 

“May the Force be with you, Kenobi,” Adi Gallia said, a sentiment that was repeated by the rest of the council.  Obi-Wan blinked back tears.

 

“And with you,” he said softly.  Satine murmured her own goodbyes to the council, before pulling him into a tight hug under Cabor’s watchful gaze once the feed was shut off, ignoring Pre Vizsla’s scoff of distaste.  

 

\----------

 

Back in the Jedi High Council Chambers, Mace Windu grinned, a flash of white teeth against his dark skin.  “Well,” he said, voice deceptively casual. “I’m going to Mandalore,” he declared. “Who wants to join me?”

 

\----------

 

**_31/12/41 - New Years Eve, dusk_ **

**_Sundari Royal Palace_ **

**_Mandalore_ **

 

Obi-Wan adjusted his clothing for the upteenth time, resisting the urge to run into the ‘fresher and hide from the world.  He was dressed in traditional Mandalorian robes of white and pale blue, with a navy sash tied tightly around his waist, emphasising his recently gained figure.  Though no longer equipped with a lightsaber, he had a long knife imbued with the Force tucked into his gold belt, hanging nearly to his knees, and a blaster hanging off his hip.  He clasped the navy cape over one shoulder, running his hands over the gimmersilk. It was dotted with gems and silver thread, made to look like the night sky.

 

Qui-Gon put his hands on his shoulders, straightening the cloak for him.  “Relax Padawan,” he soothed. “You’ve met most of these people before,” he pointed out.  

 

“I know,” Obi-Wan sighed, looking at Qui-Gon’s Jedi robes with envy.  Mace snorted from his position on the sofa.

 

“Worst case scenario,” Mace said, “we take you back to the temple tonight.”  

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the alpha, feeling slightly more at ease.  “I don’t like being the centre of attention,” he admitted.

 

Qui-Gon let go of his shoulders, brushing out a non-existante wrinkle on his robes. “Get used to it Obi-Wan.” he teased.  “This is only the beginning.”

 

Obi-Wan shuddered internally.  He was truly happy to be betrothed to Satine, and felt that he could make a difference on Mandalore, but was not looking forwards to a life in the spotlight.   

 

Cabor Baro entered the room, looking at Obi-Wan in approval.  “Your Grace,” he said formally, a glint of mischief in his black eyes.  Obi-Wan had already asked Cabor to call him by his name. Cabor took great pleasure in pretending he hadn’t heard him.  The tall guard looked him up and down in approval. “You look like a true Mandalorian Duke,” he praised.

 

Obi-Wan fought down a blush.  

 

“Come,” Cabor continued in a long suffering, offering a large dark hand to Obi-Wan.  “It’s time to put on a show.”

 

Mace and Qui-Gon followed them out, giving Obi-Wan a sense of security.  He knew the two men would fight to the death to protect him, and always have his best interests at heart.  Qui-Gon as his former Master and father figure, and Mace as a pack alpha and friend.

 

He could do this.  

 

They met Satine and her retinue in the Grand Ballroom, which still wore signs of damage from the war despite their best efforts.  Recovery would take time. He smiled at her, feeling a surge of attraction which he fought to shield from the other Force sensitives in the room.  She looked stunning, despite the somewhat ridiculous headpiece she wore. She also, Obi-Wan noted in consternation, was wearing tall heels.

 

“I barely come up to your shoulder when you’re wearing those,” he complained when he reached her.  

 

She didn’t even blink, staring at him before her sister nudged her hard in the ribs.  “Obi-Wan!” She said, not even pausing to glare at Bo-Katan. “I…” she trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.  

 

“What my moronic sister means to say is you look amazing Obi,” Bo-Katan snickered, giving Obi-Wan a firm hug.  Mace glared at her from behind Obi-Wan’s shoulder, before turning his ire on the still seemingly struck dumb Duchess.  

 

The sounds from the plaza outside the balcony where getting louder, and Obi-Wan felt his shoulders tensing.  He’d been among royalty before, and in front of crowds, but never as the centre of attention. Even when attention had been drawn to him and his Master as Jedi representatives, his Qui-Gon had always garnered far more attention then he ever had.  

 

Mace stepped up beside him, soothing him both with the Force and his scent.  Obi-Wan forced himself to relax, and nodded to the Jedi Master in thanks. Satine, it seemed, had finally roused herself, and held out a long fingered hand to Obi-Wan.  

 

“Ready to make our first official appearance now that our betrothal has been made public, my darling?” She asked, concern and humour shining in her eyes.  

“It’s too late to run for the hills now,” Obi-Wan said dryly.  

 

“Not yet it isn’t,” Mace murmured.  “Ow!”

 

“Go, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said even as he raised an eyebrow at his fellow Jedi Master.  “I can smack this one again if need be, no matter how many people are watching.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed, grasping Satine by the hand.  She towered over him in her heels, and the headdress only served to make her look larger. Despite his minor annoyance at being so much smaller than her, he was relieved.  Satine would draw most of the attention with her purple robes and glittering jewelry, while he looked more subdued in shades of blue and white. He supposed thatnonce they were officially married he would be forced to dress more ornately to match his wife, but for now he could get away with letting her take most of the attention.  

 

“Let’s go,” he said, stealing himself.  Satine flashed him a sharp grin, letting her alpha side show, and pulled him gently to stand before the large doors leading to the balcony.  

 

Bo-Katan and the recently instated Prime Minister Almec preceded them, the roar of the crowd becoming deafening at their appearance.  

 

“People of Mandalore,” Bo-Katan started, voiced loud and strong over the speaker system.  She was a born public speaker, as was Satine, and enjoyed being the centre of attention. “Duchess Satine Kyrze, and her betrothed, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said calmly and without any fanfare.  There were times Obi-Wan appreciated Mandalorian efficiency, but right at this moment he would be happier with a long speech from both Bo-Katan and Almec.

 

Beside him Satine took a deep breath, and they walked forwards to face the crowds as one, Mace and Qui-Gon trailing them as Obi-Wan’s acting guardians.  Deputy Minister Jerec along with several other ministers followed.

 

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously, gripping Satine’s hand tightly.  Her hand was shaking slightly, though none of her nerves showed on her face, which looked as though it had been chiseled from marble.  

 

Almec bowed and stepped off the dias as they approached, leaving only Bo-Katan waiting for them.  “Sister,” she said formally, inclining her head in respect. Her voice was still being projected throughout the suddenly quiet plaza.  “Shield-Brother,” she continued, nodding to Obi-Wan in turn. Satine inclined her head carefully to her younger sister, learly of her head-dress, while Obi-Wan clasped Bo-Katan’s arm in a traditional Mandalorian greeting.  

 

“Sister,” Satine retired, stepping up onto the diaz.  “We thank you for your introduction,” she continued formally.  

 

Obi-Wan let go of her arm, bowing his head respectfully.  “Shield-sister,” he said in return, nearly jumping in surprise as he response was projected into the crowd, despite knowing to expect it.  Bo-Katan smirked at him slightly, before stepping back to stand beside Almec, auburn hair shining under the lights.

 

Satine was still looking back at him, a striking figure glittering in the setting sun.  Obi-Wan stepped up beside her, falling in love all over again. She grasped his hand, pulling him to stand as her equal.  The crowd was looking up at them, faces rapt with attention. She observed them for a moment, her and Obi-Wan’s tightly clasped hands clearly visible.  

 

“People of Mandalore,” Satine started, voice slow and measured.  Obi-Wan had seen her rehearse her speech in her chambers countless times.  “I wish you all a Happy New Year,” she continued. “We have much to recover from in the times to come, but let us take this night to celebrate!”  

 

The crowd made some noises of approval.  

 

“Food and water will be distributed throughout the planet, thanks to the donations of the Jedi Agricorps, as a gift from my betrothed Obi-Wan Kenobi, formerly of the Jedi Order, and his guardians Master’s Mace Windu and Qui-Gon Jinn,” Satine declared, giving Obi-Wan a glance.  

 

Obi-Wan raised a hand, waving to the crowded with false composure. The council had discussed it at length, wanting to help Mandalore as it recovered.  While the Jedi frequently donated foodstuff to planets in need, Mandalore’s relationship with the Jedi was rocky at best and horrifically violent at worst, and no one had been sure what to expect.  Their solution was to use his becoming a part of the ruling clan as an excuse for the aid. Hopefully the Mandalorian people would accept it, rather then being suspicious of the Jedi interlopers.

 

“With this gift, tonight can be a celebration!  We will be melding the old ways of Mandalore with the new.  We cannot forget our past, nor ignore our historic traditions.  However, we cannot expect the old ways to sustain us! Mandalorian culture has been fading, as we have been unwilling to change along with the galaxy.  We must change in order to survive and in order to thrive as a people! We have plans for this new Mandalore, plans that I hope you will all vote on in the upcoming weeks as we form a new government.”  

 

The noises from the crowd were louder now, and most seemed to be in approval.  Obi-Wan knew there would be those who disapproved with what Satine was saying, but hoped they would be in the minority.  

 

“But enough of me talking,” Satine drawled, smirking at the crowd.  “There will be time for us all to discuss our system’s future. Tonight is for remembrance of our fallen shield brothers and sisters, and to look at the future.  Let us feast and make merry. Munit oyacyir Manda'yaim (1)!”

 

“Munit oyacyir Manda'yaim!” The crowd chanted back, all looking thrilled at the idea of a feast.  The people of Mandalore had been starving for too long. The Jedi Council had not needed to worry about whether or not their donation would be accepted.  

 

Palace workers began setting up tables with food in the plaza, as well as in strategic points throughout Sundari and beyond.  Behind them Satine’s council filed back into the ballroom, though both Master Windu and Master Jinn stayed, Obi-Wan needing to have a guardian with him at all times.  Traditionally Mandalore valued it’s omega population, and his guard was meant to ensure the behaviour of the alpha more than that of the omega. Obi-Wan could initiate contact whenever he wanted, and was free to do whatever he wished.  It was Satine who had to be careful. If his guardian though she was remotely a danger to him they would be well within their rights to kill her, and the people of Mandalore would celebrate her death.

 

Mace had been viciously pleased when he’d learned this.  

 

Satine stepped of the dias, pulling Obi-Wan down with her.  They remained silent until they were beneath the massive archway leading to the ballroom, before both letting out loud breaths.  

 

“First speech as Duchess done,” Satine exclaimed.  

 

“I’m so glad I didn’t have to say anything,” Obi-Wan said in a rush, still feeling nervous.  Satine enjoyed public speaking. He, one the other hand, despised it.

 

“This time,” Satine teased, finally letting go of his hand to adjust her heavy cloak.  Obi-Wan stared at her, a contemplative smile on his face. “What?” She asked when she noticed his gave, a nervous look on her face.  “Is there something wrong?”

 

“No,” Obi-Wan said honestly, stepping into her personal space, and put his arms around her neck, mindful not to touch her headdress or ruffle her clothing.  

 

She smiled down at him in bemusement, arms automatically coming to encircle his waist, hugging him tightly to her body and sighing in pleasure.

 

“I love you,” he said softly, voice barely louder than a whisper.  “I really do.”

 

Satine swallowed, looking down at him with a surprised yet gleeful expression on her face.  It was the first time Obi-Wan had ever said it to her. She’d told him she loved him more then once, but the words had always stuck in his throat when he’d tried to return the sentiment.  

 

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could do so Obi-Wan stood on his toes and kissed her tenderly.  Her arms spasmed around him, but she didn’t deepen the kiss, keeping it relatively chaste. Obi-Wan pulled back slightly, staying perched on his tiptoes, and leaning most of his weight on Satine. Her eyes opened slowly, glistening with tears.  “I love you so much,” she whispered, her breath gentle on Obi-Wan’s face. She moved one hand from his hip to caress his face. Obi-Wan, now off balance, tightened his arms around his shoulders. “Can I kiss you again?” She asked.

 

Obi-Wan let out a breathy laugh, ignoring his Jedi Guardians, the retinue of Ministers, and the dull roar of the crowd in the background. “Always,” he answered, feeling tears prick at his eyes as well.  

 

She lowered her mouth to his, kissing him firmly and joyfully, before resting their foreheads together.  The crowd was deafening, and they both belatedly realised they were still in full view of the plaze from their position framed in the archway of the balcony.  “At least they approve,” Satine murmured wryly, giving Obi-Wan one more quick peck before he lowered himself to stand properly.

 

Obi-Wan grinned at her unashamedly, knowing he was blushing a bright red.  

 

Qui-Gon was grinning at him, the old romantic, looking like he was fighting back a laugh.  Mace look less pleased, but didn’t seem angry, which Obi-Wan was counting as a victory.

 

He and Satine both ignored Bo-Katan, who was looking far too smug for her own good.  

 

They walked fully into the ballroom amidst the applause of the assembled Mandalorian elite, settling themselves at the head table, though Satine remained standing.  Taking that as their cue, the rest of the assembly found their own seats.

 

“That kiss is going to be on the cover of every holo mag and news story come morning,” Qui-Gon laughed as he sat beside Obi-Wan in a position of honour as one of the Jedi responsible for aiding Mandalore during the war.  

 

Obi-Wan gave his former Master a look of pure terror, before groaning.  “Great,” he griped.

 

Mace shrugged, lounging in his own chair, and looking not unlike a Asharl Panther awaiting for its prey. Obi-Wan had the feeling that Satine was the prey, considering the circumstances.  She’d clearly noticed as well, and was doing a remarkable job at ignoring the imposing Jedi Master.

 

She picked up her glass, filled with a bubbling wine.  Obi-Wan had the same in front of him, and he picked it up gingerly.  She tapped a long nail on the glass, the chime echoing in the large room.  “Let the feast begin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Munit oyacyir Manda'yaim - Long live Mandalore
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! PLEASE let me know in the comments what you thought, advice, what you'd like to see included, etc...


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dates become a little more important from now on, just to let you know :)

**_Eight Years Later - Seven Months Before the Crisis of Naboo_ **

 

#

 

**_02/09/33 BBY, late evening_ **

**_Royal Palace of Theed_ **

**_Naboo_ **

 

Padme Amidala, the newly elected Queen of Naboo, finally allowed a large smile to cross her face as she fought back tears and a bout of hysterical laughter.  

 

She’d done it.  

 

She’d been elected Queen in a landslide victory. She wasn’t the youngest ruler to be elected to govern, but it was certainly close.  

 

She took a deep breath, catching the gleeful eye of Sabe, the handmaiden who was to be her double when she needed the additional protection.  Their own mother’s hadn’t been able to tell the two girls apart once they’d both donned the heavy makeup and clothing of Naboo Royalty.  Sabe was the only one with her at the moment, the others were hidden in strategic points in the palace, none in recognizable garb.  They were meeting palace workers (both new and old) to see what they thought of their newly elected monarch.

 

There was a knock on the heavily decorated door, and she fought the urge to jump, startled from her thoughts.  Sabe snorted in amusement, before composing her face and going to answer the door, admitting Naboo’s Senator, Sheev Palpatine, into the room.  

 

“Senator Palpatine,” she said, a small smile on her face.  Palpatine had unofficially supported her throughout the election process, and had proven to be a kind and knowledgeable mentor.  He was older than many politicians from Naboo, with threads of grey in his ginger hair, but well loved, and no one wanted to see someone new take his place.  Especially not her.

 

“Your Majesty,” he said mischievously, sweeping into a formal bow.  

 

“There’s no need for that, Senator,” Padme said, standing from her desk and gesturing for him to sit.  Once he was seated comfortable and had been offered refreshments from Sabe she seated herself again, careful not to rumple her cumbersome gown.

 

Palpatine looked at her with a grandfatherly smile on his face, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling in amusement.  “Now that the elections are over, I can confidently say I knew you would win,” he teased. “You had no competition in Ryn Mallo, while she’s certainly able, she has none of your fire.”

 

“Thank you, Senator,” Padme answered, glad her makeup would hide her flush of pleasure at his words.  “I have spoken to Mallo, and she feels she will be better able to serve Naboo in a different sector, and I have given her my permission to do so.”

 

“Ah, let me guess,” Palpatine mused, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.  “She wishes to work with the young.”

 

Padme chuckled lightly, conscious to keep her bearing regal.  “She has always been drawn to children,” she confirmed. “Now, Senator,” she continued.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

Sheev laughed aloud, setting down his finished cup of tea.  Sabé quickly cleared it away. “No, no, my dear Queen,” he said with warm familiarity.  “I just wanted to come by and congratulate you before we are both swamped by our respective duties.  You will be off to Coruscant soon, yes?”

 

Padme inclined her chin slightly. “Within the month,” she confirmed.  “As soon I am sure Naboo is stable in the wake of the elections.”  

 

The senator let out a guffaw at her statement.  Naboo was peaceful, and her election as Queen had been more peaceful than most.  “As you say, Your Majesty,” he responded once he’d got himself under control, pale blue eyes twinkling.  

 

Padme allowed herself to give a small smirk in response, knowing what he’d found so amusing.  

 

“Well,” he said loudly, gently hitting his hands off the arms of the chair he was seated in.  “I am meeting a friend for dinner now that my duties for the day are complete, and I’m sure you would like some time to allow this day to truly sink in, so to speak,” he said, standing slowly.  

 

Padme stood as well, slow and careful in her heavy robes.  She wryly thought that getting used to the clothing (especially the headdress!) would take her longer to get used to then her duties as Queen.

 

Palpatine bowed again, smiling at her in what she thought was true happiness, and not the political mask he normally was required to wear to survive in the Galactic Senate.  

 

“Your Majesty,” he said again when he straightened, leaving the room after her nod of dismissal.  Sabé held to door open, offering him a small smile as he left the large office.

 

Padme watched her Senator leave the chambers, feeling an odd chill crawl up her spine, as through someone had walked over her grave.  The room grew cold, and she imagined she could see her breath when she exhaled shakily.

 

She shook her head, putting the thought to the back of her mind, and forcefully ignoring the feeling in her gut that said there was something off about Senator Palpatine.  He’d been the Senator for Naboo for years, and was well loved. And he’d been nothing but kind and supportive to her.

 

Years later, she would remember this moment and wish she hadn’t ignored her instincts.

 

#

 

**_20/09/33 BBY, afternoon_ **

**_Jedi Temple hanger bay_ **

**_Coruscant_ **

 

Obi-Wan stepped off of the transport, resisting the urge to kiss the solid ground beneath his feet.  

 

Pregnancy and hyperspace had not mixed well.

 

“All right, Your Grace?”  

 

Obi-Wan shot Cabor and annoyed look.  “Haven’t we talked about that?” He asked, trying to to whine pathetically. He’d been trained out of whining in the creche years ago, he wasn’t going to start again now.    

 

Cabor’s face was perfectly neutral, but he couldn’t stop his force signature from leaking amusement.  “You are the Duke of Mandalore, and thus need to be addressed by your proper title,” he said primly.

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  “You just know it annoys me,” he grumbled.  

 

Cabor grinned.  “Of course, Your Grace.”  The grin fell from his face, replaced by a look of deep concern.  “I still think we should have gone to your apartments first,” he said for the fourth time.  “You need to rest.”

 

Obi-Wan walked further into the temple hanger bay, feeling better with each step. The Force saturating the temple was like a balm to his soul.  “I’ve done nothing but rest since we got on the transport,” he pointed out, spotting a small figure approaching.

 

He fought the urge to grin.  

 

“Resting in hyperspace is not the same!” Cabor snapped irritably, having watched Obi-Wan suffer through five days of rough travel.  

 

Obi-Wan waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine, Cabor,” he said, not untruthfully.  He was already feeling less nauseous, though the feeling never went away completely.  “Master Yoda,” he said when the diminutive figure came closer. He bowed low, feeling Cabor do the same behind him.  

 

“Stop that, you will,” Yoda grunted, smacking him lightly in the shins with his cane.    

 

“Yes Master,” Obi-Wan smirked.  Yoda rolled his luminous eyes.

 

They walked together in comfortable silence, Cabor trailing several steps behind them, until they reached the turbolift that would take them into the living area of the temple.  

 

“Visions, you are having?” Yoda finally asked.  

 

Obi-Wan nodded, tucking a long strand of red hair behind his ear.  “Yes Master,” he replied, brow furrowed.

 

Yoda nodded solemnly.  “Discuss it now, we will not,” he declared.  Obi-Wan looked down at him in surprise. “To the healers, you should go.”

 

Cabor snorted, his glee leaking into the force.  Obi-Wan shot him a glare, then gave Yoda an annoyed look.  

 

“Exhausted, you are,” Yoda pointed out.  

 

“I don’t need to see the healers for being tired,” Obi-Wan grumbled.  

 

“Feel better, I would, if checked by Master Che you and your little one are.”  

 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.  He was barely over a month along, and already heartily sick of everyone fussing over him.  And of course Yoda knew.

 

“Make you an appointment for later, I will,” Yoda continued, completely ignoring Obi-Wan’s glare.  “Rest now, you will. Comm you with the appointment time, I shall.”

 

Cabor’s glee was stifling.  Obi-Wan fought the urge to smack him and Yoda both.  

 

The lift stopped, and Yoda gently prodded Obi-Wan out the door.  Obi-Wan raised an elegant eyebrow at the ancient Master.

 

“Happy, Qui-Gon will be to see you,” he said.  “Go and rest on his sofa, you will.”

 

Knowing he was defeated, Obi-Wan held is hands up in surrender.  “Fine, fine,” he complained. Yoda looked smug, as did his guard.  “Cabor,” Obi-Wan continued. “Go see Ator on my behalf,” he ordered, stopping the lift doors from closing with the force.  He held up a hand, stopping Cabor’s immediate and probably vehement protests. “I’m in the Jedi temple,” he continued. “Soon to be in the company of my former Master, and just a comm call away from some of the best healer’s in the galaxy,”  he finished with a glare. “I will be fine.”

 

Cabor nodded, but looked unhappy.  “Yes, Your Grace,” he said grumpily, stepping back into the lift.

 

“Be with him, I will, until we reach Master Jinn’s quarters,” Yoda said.  Cabor, looking mollified, finally allowed the lift doors to shut, though Obi-Wan noticed him getting out his comm.  Knowing him, he was calling Satine and tattle on him as though he was an errant crecheling.

 

The traitor.

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, walking slowly down the hall to Qui-Gon’s quarters with Yoda pacing beside him.  “I’m going to have to resign myself to being fussed over constantly, aren’t I?” He asked rhetorically.

 

Yoda chortled, mirth in his force signature.  “Wait, you should, until Master Windu finds out!”

 

Obi-Wan shuddered theatrically, causing Yoda to laugh further.  “Would you like a cup of tea?” He asked when they stopped outside Qui-Gon’s quarters.  Obi-Wan palmed the door open, his biosignature still approved on the locking mechanism.  

 

“Meant it, I did, when said you should rest,” he said, prodding Obi-Wan through the door.  “Set up an appointment with the healers I will.” With that he walked away, leaving Obi-Wan to look at his retreating back in amusement.  

 

He shut the door, before walking into the familiar quarters.  Now that he was in his old rooms, a nap did seem appealing. There was something comforting about being in these chambers, like a warm hug.  Going into the small kitchen he grabbed a glass of juice from the refrigeration unit, and walked back into the living room, settling himself on the worn sofa.

 

His comm trilled, signalling an incoming long-haul communication.

 

“Hello dearest,” Obi-Wan said, thumbing the receiver on the device.  

 

“I just received a rather annoyed and frantic call from Cabor,” Satine said in lieu of a greeting, sounding vaguely amused.  “Apparently you sent him away?”

 

“I’m in the Jedi Temple love,” Obi-Wan retorted with a smothered yawn.  Satine’s look of amusement faded into concern. “Perfectly safe.”

 

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

 

Obi-Wan smiled at her, settling himself more comfortably on the sofa.  “Better now that I’m not in hyperspace,” he admitted. Hyperspace had not mixed well with his morning sickness, which never seemed to be contained to the morning and hung around all hours of the day and night.

 

“But not completely well,” his wife observed, shooting him a concerned look.

Obi-Wan smiled tiredly.  “I’m still tired, no matter how much rest I get, and feeling nauseous,” he admitted, unable and unwilling to keep anything from her.  

 

Satine’s frown deeped, worry lines creasing her high forehead.  “I wish I were there with you,” she said.

 

Obi-Wan’s smile widened.  “I miss you too,” he yawned again.  “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Satine said warmly.  “Both of you.”

 

Obi-Wan snorted, not bothering to hide his next yawn.  

 

Satine’s loving smile faded into a familiar expression of exasperated concern.  “Get some sleep, you foolish man,” she ordered. “No one will begrudge you some extra rest.”  

 

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh, even as he listened to her advice and tugged a blanket over his legs, noting in amusement that it was the same one that Qui-Gon had had during his apprenticeship, and it had been old then.  “All I do is rest lately,” he grouched playfully, looking over at her small projected image with a raised eyebrow.

 

Satine raised one of her own in retaliation, before making a shooing gesture at someone out of view.  

 

“Duty calls?” he asked, laughing at the look of annoyance on her face.  She’d always been rather protective of him, and that protectiveness had reached new heights with the news of his pregnancy.  

 

“Unfortunately,” she sighed.  “You’ll call later?”

 

“Of course,” he responded.  “You can tell me all about your meeting with Vizsla.”  

 

Satine shuddered, her response only slightly exaggerated.  “Next time, you can be the one that deals with him,” she grouched.  Obi-Wan snickered.

“You’d let another, potentially violent, alpha near your pregnant omega?” he teased.  

 

Satine shot him a wide-eyed look of innocence.  “To avoid dealing with him? Absolutely.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed out loud, eyes crinkling in mirth.  The intense dislike between the Duchess of Mandalore and leader Mandalore’s most radical political party, Pre Vizsla, was legendary.  “I love you too darling,” he drawled.

 

Satine’s expression of annoyance softened to a soft loving smile.  “Come back to me soon,” she said. “It is… difficult having you away from me, especially now,” she admitted.  

 

“You’ll be back to holding my hair while I vomit in no time,” he promised, startling a laugh out of his alpha.  “Talk to you tonight.”

 

“Tonight,” Satine answered like a promise, before ending to call to go and deal with her unfortunate duties.  

 

Obi-Wan turned off the comm after sending a message to Cabor that he was having a nap and would comm him if need be.  For all that he teased Cabor about his protectiveness, he didn’t want his loyal guard worrying about him more than he already did.  Cabor had been Obi-Wan’s guard since he and Satine began courting when he’d been sixteen, and Obi-Wan counted the man as a friend as well as guardian.  

 

Muttering under his breath about overprotective alpha’s, Obi-Wan allowed the comforting feel of the temple to soothe him to sleep.  

 

#

 

Qui-Gon palmed open the door to his quarters cheerfully, in a frightfully good mood after spending his morning in the temple gardens, then his lunch catching up with several friends who were in the temple at the same time for a change.

 

He blinked for a moment, wondering at the darkness of his rooms, before spotting the form on the sofa.  

 

“Huh,” he grunted.  He hadn’t expected Obi-Wan to come to the Temple until he’d been to the senate, which always took several hours.  

 

Shrugging, he kicked off his boots and went to make tea.  If Obi-Wan was ready to wake up, the smell of tea would rouse him.  If he was too deeply asleep to notice the scent of tea in the air nothing short of an earthquake would wake him.  

 

Soon enough the tea was perfectly brewed, and Obi-Wan was stirring.  

 

Qui-Gon smirked, pleased with himself.  He still knew Obi-Wan so well.

 

“I’d expected you to go directly to the Senate,” he said, opening the curtains with one hand while he balanced the tea with other, liberally applying the force to keep the tray from falling.

 

Obi-Wan sat up, blinking at him slowly.  “Hmm?”

 

Qui-Gon sat in a chair diagonally from his former apprentice, setting the tray down on the small table in front of the sofa.  “I said, I’d expected you to go directly to the senate.”

 

Obi-Wan rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand, before brushing his shoulder length hair away from his face. “Oh,” he yawned.  “No, I don’t have anything urgent to see to,” he explained. “Atar is taking care of today’s business,” he said, naming Mandalore’s senator.

 

Qui-Gon eyes Obi-Wan shrewdly, pouring the tea without looking. His former apprentice looked tired, and rather ill.  

 

“What kind or tea, Qui-Gon?”

 

“It’s a new black I found on my last mission,” Qui-Gon answeed, still searching Obi-Wan’s wan features.  “More caffeine content then caff.”

 

A mournful look overcame Obi-Wan’s face.  “Do you have anything decaffeinated?”

 

Qui-Gon snorted in surprise and amusement.  “Why would you ever want decaf?” he asked incredulously, even as he moved into the kitchenette to prepare some.  He had some herbal tea somewhere…

 

“And some plain biscuits?”  Obi-Wan called out, pushing himself off the couch to totter after the beta, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen with a small smile despite still being pale and tired looking.  

 

Qui-Gon half turned, one hand still in the cupboard, as a slow smile crossed his bearded face.  

 

“How far along?” He asked, his cheeks hurting from the size of his grin.

 

Obi-Wan met his smile with an answering gin, one hand going to his lower belly.  “Just over a month,” he answered, laughing when Qui-Gon whooped with joy and crossed the small room to envelope him in a massive hug, lifting the smaller man off his feet.

 

“Congratulations Obi-Wan,” the large man said into his hair.  He laughed again, stepping back and holding onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, feeling the other man laugh through the layers of his fine robes.  He pulled him in for one more hug, before going back into the kitchen, pulling the omega with him.

 

“Morning sickness?” He asked, pulling out the chamomile tea and a box of plain biscuits as Obi-Wan perched on the counter.

 

Obi-Wan nodded.  “Not too terribly, but I’m nauseated most of the time, even if just mildly,” he explained, accepting the biscuits and tea.  “And,” he continued sadly, “I’ve been banned from caffeine.”

 

“The horror,” Qui-Gon said seriously, fighting back another smile, before laughing at Obi-Wan’s glare.  

 

“You’re not the one not allowed caffeine,” he sniffed, taking a cautious sip of the hot liquid.  

 

“For a good cause, my dear Duke,” Qui-Gon teased, formally crossing his arms and giving his former Padawan his best diplomat’s smile.  

 

Obi-Wan threw a biscuit at him.  

 

Qui-Gon burst out laughing.  “I can’t believe you did that,” he chuckled, kneeling to pick up the biscuit, which had broken into three pieces on the floor.  Obi-Wan watched him, one eyebrow raised.

 

“I’ve thrown worse at Satine lately,” he admitted.  “She kept drinking caff around me, and the smell made me sick.”  

 

Qui-gon raised an eyebrow back.  “She deserved it then.”

 

Obi-Wan grinned, the smile lighting up his face and erasing some of the lines of exhaustion.  “Frip yes.”

 

They drank their tea in comfortable silence for several minutes, enjoying the taste of a perfectly brewed blend, before Qui-Gon started speaking again, noting Obi-Wan’s face rapidly paling.  “Come on,” he said kindly, taking the near empty mug from the younger man’s hand. “To the sofa with you.”

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but readily complied, sitting on the old piece of furniture with a grunt.  “I,” he declared, “am going to be heartily sick of everyone being so protective by the time this one’s born,” he finished, one hand again on his stomach, which had yet to show any sign of his pregnancy.  

 

Qui-Gon laughed outright at him, ignoring the glare Obi-Wan shot him.  “Overprotective alpha’s?” He asked sympathetically. He remember how protective Mace would get of Obi-Wan after he’d presented at age thirteen.  Obi-Wan had nearly torn his hair out before they’d sat down with the alpha to talk.

 

Omega’s were relatively rare in the galaxy, making up approximately 4.7 percent of the human population.  Alpha’s were less rare, but still not common at 15.8 percent. The Jedi Order had had its share of those with secondary genders over the years, but not many. As such, all of the alpha’s in the temple were extremely protective of its few omega members.  At the time Obi-Wan had left the Order he’d been its only omega member, and Mace Windu one of the few alphas.

 

Mandalore, by contrast, was strange in that it’s population seemed to have a disproportionate amount of Alpha’s, making up nearly 34% of their human population.  Omega’s, by contrast, only made up about 7.6%.

 

Obi-Wan was sure to be going crazy with all the protective alpha’s around.  

 

As if reading his thoughts, Obi-Wan laughed loudly.  “You have no idea,” he drawled. “Even Satine’s instincts have got the best of her at times, and I think Cabor’s going to burst a blood vessel soon,” he explained.  “We’ve only told family and the council, but with the way they’re acting all of Mandalore will know soon enough,” he swallowed, face rapidly gaining a green tinge.

 

Qui-Gon slid from his chair onto his knees in front of the sofa, fingertips going to Obi-Wan’s suddenly clammy cheek, and sent several waves of soothing Force Healing into the young omega.

 

Obi-Wan smiled gratefully, leaning into the touch.  “Thank you,” he said softly, some of the colour having returned to his cheeks.  Qui-Gon sat back on his heels, observing the young man fondly.

 

“Anytime,” he replied, still looking at Obi-Wan critically. His former apprentice looked like he had lost several pounds, and was still far to pale.  “You should see a healer while you’re here.”

 

Obi-Wan snorted.  “Yoda’s already set up an appointment for me,” he explained at Qui-Gon’s questioning look.  “He did so within five minutes of greeting me.”

 

“Meddling old troll,” Qui-Gon answered without any real heat, settling himself on the sofa beside Obi-Wan, still worried about the green cast to his features, and dark crescents under his bright eyes.  “You’re hair’s nearly as long as mine,” he said, flicking a ginger lock playfully.

 

Obi-Wan grinned, pleased by the subject change.  “As I’m sure you know,” he said, “hair needs to be short enough to be kept out of the eyes…”

 

“Or long enough to be tied back,” Qui-Gon continued.  “Tradition?”

 

Obi-Wan nodded, twirling a strand of red hair around a finger absentmindedly.  “At least I’m not expected to wear the headresses like Sati is.”

 

Qui-Gon guffawed loudly, trying and failing to picture his former apprentice wearing the ornate headdresses of the Mandalorian elite.  “What about a beard?”

 

Obi-Wan shook his head mournfully.  “I tried, and it was quite fetching if I say so myself.” he explained.  “Satine hated it.”

 

“Now Padawan,” Qui-Gon started.  “Don’t let Mace hear you say that.”  

 

“Huh?” Obi-Wan questioned, looking at the old Jedi in confusion.  

 

“If Mace thinks you’re doing anything for the approval of an alpha, even your own wife, he’ll be invading Mandalore single handedly.”

 

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, knowing it was true.  “Sati and I made a deal,” he then laughed. “I’ll stay clean shaven, as she likes, if she stops wearing this one awful headdress she has.”  

 

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.  “Let me guess,” he said. “It was her favourite, and had a great deal of tradition behind it.”  

 

Obi-Wan smirked.  “I may have acted as though I liked having a beard more than I actually did,” he admitted wryly.  “In the end, she got rid of the headdress.”

 

Qui-Gon chuckled, stroking his own beard.  “You would be a terrifying Jedi diplomat.”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged one shoulder.  “Probably, but that path is gone. I’ll settle for browbeating the Senate whenever I come to Coruscant.”  

 

The Jedi Master started to reply, only to be cut off by the evaluating look Obi-Wan was giving him.  

 

“What’s that look for?” He demanded, feeling like he was under a microscope.  

 

“When are you going to take another Padawan,” Obi-Wan asked suddenly.  

 

Qui-Gon blinked at the abrupt subject change, before rolling his eyes to the ceiling.  By the force, sometimes Obi-Wan was for too much like the old troll. “I’m too old Obi-Wan,” he finally said.  

 

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan laughed.  “You’re barely middle aged, you’ve got ages of time left to teach another Padawan or two.”  

 

Qui-Gon smiled down at the smaller man.  “Maybe,” he conceded. “I have a teaching rotation in several weeks,” he continued.  “I’ll consider it.”

 

“That’s all I ask,” Obi-Wan said, jumping when his comm chirped with an incoming text based message.  He grinned sheepishly, having forgotten that he’d turned it back on after his nap. “That’ll be Yoda,” he said.  

 

“Healers?” Qui-Gon asked, pleased by the trolls timing.  He had the council harp on him enough about taking another Padawan, he didn’t need Obi-Wan to do so as well.  

 

Truth be told, he didn’t want one.  If Obi-Wan had remained in the Order, he’d be nearly a knight now, and a part of Qui-Gon still mourned the man that Obi-Wan might have been, for all he know Obi-Wan was on the path the Force had willed for him.  

 

Maybe someday he’d take another Padawan, but not now.  

 

Beside him, Obi-Wan stood up.  “Yoda, it seems, is persistent.” He declared, stretching out his back.  

 

“He knew you woke up and made you an appointment didn’t he?” Qui-Gon guessed, standing as well and taking his mug into the kitchen.  

 

Obi-Wan made a sound of agreement.  “Want to come with me?” He asked, shoving his feet into his soft leather shoes.  

 

Qui-Gon came to stand beside Obi-Wan, pulling on his own boots.  “Of course,” he replied. He had one of the strongest connections to the Living Force in the Jedi Order, and new life was the most intense connection that particular aspect of the Force there could be.

 

Cabor met them in the Ward, looking anxious.  

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He demanded.  

 

Obi-Wan gave is loyal guard a confused look, even as he lead the way into the Ward.  “I thought you wanted me to see the healers?” He asked, smiling at the Padawan who jumped up from her desk and lead them into a private exam room.  

 

“Master Che will be with you shortly!” She said brightly.  

 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head in thanks.  She bowed in return, first to him, then to Qui-Gon, before leaving the room, shutting the door with a pneumatic hiss behind her.  

 

“You’re barely over a month along, you aren’t exactly announcing the news yet,” Cabor said.  

 

Obi-Wan sat himself on the exam table, smiling softly at Cabor.  “The Jedi won’t say anything,” he said.

 

Cabor just grunted.  

 

“Anyway,” Obi-Wan continued, “in a few weeks time any alpha will be able to scent it on me.”  

 

Cabor started to reply, but was cut off when the door opened.  Master Che gave him a surprised look. “So many people for one exam,” she said dryly.  

 

Obi-Wan laughed.  

 

Vokara Che made a shooing gestures to him, encouraging him to lie down.  “This is certainly different than my normal exams,” she continued cheerfully.  “It’s not often I get to feel life developing.”

 

“Glad I can brighten your day,” Obi-Wan drawled.  

 

Che smacked him on the shoulder lightly.  “You were one of my most difficult patients,” Che scolded.  “I’m excited to see your little one, not you Kenobi.”

 

Qui-Gon snorted at the disgruntled look on Obi-Wan’s face, and even Cabor was laughing.  

 

“She’s right, you know,” Cabor said, apparently over his concern with more people knowing about the pregnancy.  “You are an absolutely appalling patient. The healers at the palace hate dealing with you.”

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, not bothering to protest. There was no point, not among these three, and submitted to Che’s tender mercies.

  


#

 

Several hours later Obi-Wan knocked on a door in the the darkened hallway, alone for the first time in what felt like years, when it had been in reality only been several weeks.  

 

As he had known, the baby was healthy (Qui-Gon had still been teary over the small blip on the scan when they’d parted ways), and he’d born the lecture about being underweight with good grace.  It was hardly his fault, and he was genuinely trying to gain the required weight. His morning sickness seemed to have other plans.

 

“Went well, the appointment with Che did?” Yoda asked as he opened the door, blinking up at Obi-Wan with keen eyes.  

 

“I’m sure you’ve already had a full report from Master Che,” Obi-Wan said, following his Great-Grandmaster into the quarters.  

 

Yoda scoffed, nudging Obi-Wan into a ancient yet extremely comfortable chair that Yoda kept for humanoid guests of a normal height.  Yoda himself settled onto a meditation cushion, setting his glimmer stick across his folded knees.

 

Obi-Wan likewise crossed his knees in the classic meditation pose, mimicking the master.  

 

“I have, yes, I have,” Yoda hummed.  “Need to eat more, you do,” he scolded lightly.  

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  “I eat fine,” he protested, having already had this argument with Satine, his healers on Mandalore, Cabor, and now Che and Qui-Gon.  He didn’t need to hear it from Yoda as well. “I just throw it up half the time,” he finished, not even exaggerating much.

 

Yoda just grunted, apparently putting the discussion to rest, at least for the moment.  “Visions, you are having, Padawan?”

 

Obi-Wan eyes Yoda, wondering at being called Padawan, before nodding.  “Yes Master Yoda,” he replied, brow furrowed.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Obi-Wan sat silently for a long moment, not sure where to begin now that he was in front of the diminutive master.  

 

“I see darkness,” he started slowly trying to organize his suddenly chaotic thoughts.  “As though there is a veil over the entire galaxy.” He swallowed. “Some parts of the vision changes, but I always hear a voice saying ‘execute order 66’, then the feel of thousands of lives being snuffed out.”  

 

Yoda sat quietly, not interrupting.  

 

“There is a hooded figure standing in the middle of the Senate Rotunda, with a miasma of darkness around them.  Sometimes there is a Dathomirian Zabrak wielding a double bladed ‘sabre with them, and sometimes a tall creature with a black helmet not unlike those worn in Mandalore.  No matter who stands behind them, they all reek of the dark side”.

 

“Seen this figure, I have as well,” Yoda whispered when Obi-Wan paused.  “But not the others.” He grunted, standing from his cushion. “More, there is.”  

 

“An army, marching into the temple,” Obi-Wan whispered, voice cracking.  “Sometimes dressed all in white Mandalorian armor, sometimes hooded, sometimes in armor the likes of which I have never seen.  No matter, they always slaughter everyone inside.”

 

Yoda stood beside him now, small hand on his knee.  “A terrible vision, this is Padawan of mine,” he said softly, sounding like he was close to tears himself.

 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, fighting off a wave of nausea. For once it was not caused by his pregnancy, but from the memory of his visions.  “I know it is borderline hearsay to speak this aloud… but I feel like the Sith may be returning,” he finished in a rush, opening his eyes to look at the old being at his side.  

 

Yoda was looking at him, eyes wider than usual, a grim set to his mouth.  “Fear you could be right, I do,” he said, much to Obi-Wan’s intense shock.

 

He hobbled into the kitchenette, shooting Obi-Wan a vicious glare when he tried to follow.  Obi-Wan sat back, feeling both relieved and terrified. He released the terror into the force, and swallowed back tears.  

 

At least he had the pregnancy to blame for his emotional state.  

 

Yoda came back into the sitting room carrying two cups of tea and some crackers on a tray.  Despite the somber feel of the room, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Even Yoda was trying to force feed him.  

 

He took the tea and a cracker, then another when Yoda glared at him.  

 

“Hmmmph,” Yoda snorted in approval, settling back into his cushion with a sigh.  

 

“Noticed, have you, any darkness growing on Mandalore?”  

 

Obi-Wan grimaced.  “Now that there’s been relative peace for nearly a decade the extremist movement is gaining some momentum, especially with Vizsla at the helm,” he answered.  “But they are a small movement, and while many of them hate the Jedi, they don’t seen to have any interested in forming alliances outside of Mandalore.” He shook his head, always annoyed when Pre Vizsla came up.

 

“And expected this, you and Satine did,” Yoda said.  

 

Obi-Wan sighed.  “Yes, we did,” he agreed.  Mandalore was never a realm to be happy with peace for long.  “Vizsla may be a vile excuse for a man, but he is no Sith.”

 

Yoda hummed, sipping at his tea.  Obi-Wan did the same.

 

Dark times were coming.  

 

#

 

**_21/09/33 BBY, early evening_ **

**_Senate Rotunda_ **

**_Coruscant_ **

 

Padme sat back with a sigh, exhausted beyond belief.

 

The politics in the Senate made her election look quiet and short!  “Is that all?” She asked, trying to keep the pleading note out of her voice once Eirtaé had shut the door behind Viceroy Bail Antilles and his son in law, Prince Bail Organa.  

 

And she considered the younger Bail to be a friend!  

 

“Well,” Dorme said, “Officially yes,” she finished, looking exhausted herself, scrolling through the pad that held all of Padme’s appointments for the day. All her handmaidens did.  

 

Corde glared at her fellow handmaiden and friend, a sentiment that was echoed by the young monarch.  

 

“Officially?” Padme demanded cautiously, dreading the answer.  

 

“The Duke of Mandalore, his Royal Highness Obi-Wan Kryze has requested to speak with you, though the message indicates he understands if you would rather wait,” Dorme responded, summarizing the message that had just appeared on the schedule.  

 

Padme’s eyes widened, her surprise showing despite her training.  Obi-Wan Kenobi, now Kryze, was almost a legend among the ruling elite of the galaxy.  Given to the Jedi Order as an infant, he’d promised to be one of the Order’s most celebrated members.  His reputation, and that of his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn had spread throughout the galaxy despite his young age.  

 

Then he’d left the Order, sending the gossip mongers into a frenzy, and entered into a formal courtship with the new Duchess of Mandalore, Satine Kryze.  Despite the many challenges, they couple had managed to drag Mandalore out of the dregs of civil war.

 

Padme had followed his career with an interest that almost bordered on obsession, and only hoped that one day she would live up to the standard he’d set for planetary monarchs.  

 

“Your Majesty?” Corde asked, and Padme realized with a jolt that she’d be silent for far too long.  

 

She cleared her through.  “Of course I’ll see him,” she said, standing behind her desk as protocol demanded.  Both she and Duke Kryze (Obi-Wan, in her mind) were planetary monarchs, and protocol demanded that they meet on equal footing.  She’d heard rumours that he didn’t stand on ceremony unless necessary, but was not going to risk offending him.

 

Sabe smirked, knowing her monarch and friends almost hero worship of the Duke.  “I’ll set out more refreshments,” she said instead.

 

Corde opened the door, glancing down the hallway.  The offices of the Mandalorian group was close to theirs, and Cordewas equally in awe of the Duke, and had quite a crush on the Duchess.  She’d want to know exactly when he was coming.

 

Sabe raised an eyebrow at Padme.  “You can sit down, you know,” she told her friend dryly.

 

Padme rolled her eyes.  “Do my robes look alright?” She asked instead of dignifying that with a response. Eirtae eyed her critically, straightening out the back of her outer layers and tugged at her sleeves.

 

“You look perfect,” she said, falling back to her position several steps behind and to the right of Padme’s massive desk.  

 

Corde shut the door abruptly, eyes alight in excitement.  “They’re coming!” She whispered, composing herself quickly.  

 

Padme took a deep breath, focusing on breathing out her anxiety and excitement, leaving only the Queen of Naboo behind.  

 

Several moments later there was a knock on the door, and Corde opened it after receiving a nod of approval from her Queen.  

 

The Duke of Mandalore entered the room first, followed by a grim faced guard, who Padme thought was named Cabor Baro.  He was a massive man she noticed, with keen eyes that scanned the room for any threats.  

 

“Queen Amidala,” the Duke said, a small smile on his handsome face.  He was paler in person then on the news or in photos, Padme noticed, and shorter then she thought he’d be.  But the omega stood with confidence, wearing tight trousers and a top in pale cream, covered by an embroidered over-robe in the deepest purple. She eyes his clothing jealousy.  The most ornate thing he was wearing were his knee high leather boots, etched with delicate patterns. Yet he still looked every inch a monarch, even with just a small crown of unadorned gold across his brow, one that matched the simplicity of the wedding band on his long finger.  

 

Padme squashed her awe, hoping that she would someday give off the same effortless air of royalty.  

 

She smiled back, “Your Royal Highness,” she answered, reaching across her desk to clasp his hand in hers.  His grip was firm, and his hands cool. His smile widened, showing off dimples. Behind her, Padme could tell Eirtae grinning internally.  

 

She’d always loved dimples.  

 

The Duke laughed, releasing her hand and sitting when Padme did so first.  “There’s no need for that,” he said with a wave of an elegant hand.  “It’s Obi-Wan, please.”

 

Padme blinked.  “Then I insist you call me Amidala,” she replied, giving her royal name.  

 

Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgment, small smile still on his face, even as he shook his head at Sabé’s offer of refreshments.  

 

The guard scowled, saying something quickly in Mando’a.  Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and said something back which seemed to mollify Baro.  

 

“I apologize for my guard,” he said with the smile still on his face.  “He worries, even when he should not.”

 

“There is no need to apologize,” Padme said immediately, though she was deeply curious about the interaction.  “I understand completely.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed.  “I’m sure,” he chuckled.  “Now,” he continued. “I won’t take up too much of your time, as I’m sure you’re feeling rather overwhelmed with everything here at the senate.”  

 

Corde let out a small sound, though quickly composed herself when Obi-Wan glanced her way.  “I know certainly was,” he said, looking back towards Padme.  “The Galactic Senate is…” he trailed off.  “Well, it’s something else.”

 

Padme allowed herself a small laugh.  “Yes, it certainly is.” She agreed wryly.  Today had been the most hectic in her life.

 

“I would like to offer you my friendship,” he said.  “I know how hard it is to be a new Monarch in the Senate, and,” he finished, his smile widening and seeming more genuine.  “Everyone could use a friend here. I watched the election on Naboo with great interest, you are truly a remarkable young woman.”

 

Padme was silent for a moment, feeling the urge to pinch herself.  “Obi-Wan,” she finally said, once she was sure the emotion could be kept from her voice.  “You are really far too kind.”

 

He shrugged, a casual gesture that seemed at odds with their lavish surroundings.  “It’s the truth, “ he said simply. “Also, it seems our political ideologies are rather similar, and allies are always needed in the Senate.”  

 

“I’ve watched your career since I was a child,” Padme admitted, feeling oddly safe with the other politician.  “What you have done on Mandalore is truly amazing.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed again.  “Most of that is due to the actions of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and those of my wife once the war was over,” he said.  

 

Padme blinked, unused to any show of humbleness in politicians.  Though she supposed if he’d been raised as a Jedi he would have to be humble.  

 

“You sell yourself short,” she finally said in a teasing but truthful tone.  “I admire you a great deal, Duke Kryze, you are truly an inspirational man.”

 

Obi-Wan grimaced.  “Truly though, I didn’t come here to talk about politics,” he said casually, a small blush on his cheeks.  “But to greet you with a friendly face. I came to Coruscant to visit the temple, not to play politics. Well,” he added, “at least not this visit.”  

 

“You’re in the wrong building if you want to avoid politics,” Padme noted with amusement.  

 

Obi-Wan nodded his head in agreement, his smile turning rueful.  “Bail Organa is a friend,” he said in explanation. “It seems I must involve myself in politics if I’d like to see him.”  

 

“An unfortunate side effect to making friends with politicians,” Padme noted.  

 

“Yes, it is,” Obi-Wan chuckled.  “I was going to head back to my apartments for supper,” he continued.  “My former Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn will be joining me. You are, of course, more than welcome to join us,” he offered.  “After all, he is much more responsible for the peace on Mandalore then I am, and I’m sure he would love to meet you.”

 

Padme blinked, thrown by the offer.  “You still sell yourself short,” she responded, thinking fast.  Palpatine had told her to make alliances among the Senate. She might as well start with someone she truly admired and respected.  

 

“I accept.”  

  


#

  


**_21/09/33 BBY, night_ **

**_Unknown Location_ **

**_Coruscant_ **

 

Darth Maul walked through the darkly lit hall on silent feet, his breath crystallizing in the cold air.  A Hand scuttled out of his way, fear making him reek.

 

Maul scowled, features twisting in anger, before he willed his face into neutrality and entered the cavernous room his master used as an audience chamber.  

 

One day he would be powerful enough to slaughter his master and take his place.  He would make a better Sith then the old human ever could!

 

But today was not that day.  He was not strong enough yet.  

 

 

He strode into the audience chamber with his head down, kneeling once he was a respectable distance from the throne.  

 

“My apprentice,” Sidious sneered, face twisted in disgust. “I have a new mission for you.  One that concerns the Duke of Mandalore.”

  
#  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Padme, and really feel like she got the short end of the stick in the movies. I feel like she's admire Obi-Wan a lot, as he's a "politician" who's trying to do good yet still sticks to his ideals. She would totally fangirl over someone like that. I really liked their dynamic as friends, so want to hasten that along.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Anakin!

**_19/04/32 BBY, in the middle of the night_ **

**_Hours after the death of Qui-Gon Jinn_ **

**_Sundari Royal Palace, Royal Chambers_ **

**_Mandalore_ **

  
  


Obi-Wan blinked in the darkness of his bedchamber, wondering what had woken him.  He didn’t need to use the ‘fresher, (which was a rare event nowadays) no one had knocked, and Satine was still sound asleep, her breath deep and even.  He sighed, rolling to his other side to get more comfortable. At nearly full term he was having trouble finding a position that didn’t make one part or another ache.

 

At least the baby was still for a change. 

 

He was nearly asleep again, one hand resting on the swell of his stomach when his comm trilled again.  He resisted the urge to swear. Beside him, Satine started to stir grumpily, never one to be happy when awoken.  

 

Obi-Wan ignored it, knowing he’d left the device just out of reach on the bedside table, and unwilling to move to get it now that he was comfortable.  Satine shuffled closer to him, tucking her face into the back of his neck, her knees slotting neatly behind his. 

 

“Are you going to get that?” She asked grouchily, putting a hand on top of his to cradle their growing child together.  

 

Obi-Wan huffed, pushing back into her cozily.  “Don’t want to,” he said, still half asleep. 

 

The device in question stopped beeping, much to their joint relief, before starting again.  Satine lifted her head, glaring at it, and then at him. 

 

“Get your karking comm,” she growled, thumping her head back down to the pillow.  Obi-Wan knew she was barely resisting the urge to throw something at it, a feeling which was entirely mutual.  

 

Instead, he held out a hand, calling the small unit over with the force, not feeling a lick of guilt for doing do.  He was tired, sore, and had the beginnings of a wicked headache. He was allowed to use the force frivolously. 

 

“Yes?”  

 

“Your Grace,” a deep and measured voice answered.  Obi-Wan frowned, feeling more awake by the second. He recognized that voice from somewhere, but couldn't for the life of him place where.  The baby in his womb started moving, responding to his bearer’s agitation. Satine’s hand moved in a soothing motion when she felt their child move, lifting her head from the pillows.  

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan responded, pushing himself to a sitting position.  Satine helped him, putting a pillow under his back to support him.  She sat beside him, the blankets pooling at her slender waist. Obi-Wan gave her a small smile in thanks, though it was tinged with confusion.  

 

“This is Yan Dooku,” the man on the other end continued.  “I was Jedi Master to Qui-Gon Jinn,” he explained. 

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Master Dooku,” he said slowly. “It is an honour.”  

 

Dooku laughed bitterly.  “It won’t be once you hear what I have to say,” he said, sounding angry and sad all at once.  Obi-Wan’s stomach clenched, and he took the hand his wife offered. He could feel the force roiling around them in agitation, and the pain in his head spiked.

 

Something had happened.  

 

As if to confirm his thoughts, the old Jedi Master continued.  “Qui-Gon Jinn was killed on Naboo several hours ago,” he said. “He was killed by a Sith,” he spat “who then escaped.”  

 

Obi-Wan sat bolt upright, face twisting into a mask of shock and horror, breathing fast.  

 

He’d spoken to Qui-Gon several days ago, thought hadn’t seen him in person for several months.  They’d talked about what was happening on Naboo, before spending most of the conversation talking about baby names, each one they’d come up with more ridiculous than the last.  Obi-Wan had wanted to discuss the apparent Sith Qui-Gon had claimed he’d seen, but his former Master had been firm in not distressing the heavily pregnant omega, especially once Obi-Wan had confided his healers were considering putting him on bed rest.  Obi-Wan had eventually given up his quest for information, knowing it was futile. 

 

Satine snatched the comm from his hand before he could drop it, pulling him to her chest gently but firmly with her free hand.  He went willingly, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. He could feel himself beginning to shake. That was what the pain in his head had been from… his bond with Qui-Gon had been shattered. 

 

“Sati…” 

 

“You have a lot of nerve, Master Dooku,” Satine scathingly hissed.  “You should watch how you speak.”

 

Dooku sounded taken aback when he next spoke.  “The Jedi Order failed Qui-Gon,” he said. “They sent him alone to fight a Sith Lord,” he continued vehemently. 

 

“That may be true,” Satine acquiesced, looking at Obi-Wan with concern as he buried his face in her chest, tears staining her bare skin.  “But there are better ways to tell someone, especially,” she continued loudly, when it seemed as though he was going to interrupt. “A pregnant omega!” 

 

There was a pause on the other end.  “I apologise, Duke Kryze” Dooku said stiffly, though seemingly sincerely.  

 

Obi-Wan took a breath, sitting up again.  Satine regarded him with concern in her pale eyes.  He ignored her for the moment, and took the comm back.  

 

“What happened,” he demanded, voice strong despite the tears still leaking from his eyes.  

 

Dooku spoke tonelessly, with no emotion.  “A Sith by the name of Darth Maul, the same one that Qui-Gon encountered on Tatooine, was waiting for them in the hanger bay during the incursion of Naboo.  Qui-Gon led Maul away, while Queen Amidala and her retinue fought their way into the palace. It was close, but Qui-Gon was ultimately no match for the Sith, especially not fighting on his own.  He was stabbed through the chest, and died shortly after. Darth Maul escaped. There is… footage. ” 

 

Obi-Wan shut his eyes, trying to ignore the pain the old Jedi’s words caused him, and focused instead on what they meant.  

 

“Why are you telling me this?” He finally asked.  It should have been Mace or Yoda to contact him, or one of his Knight friends.  Not his Grandmaster, a man to whom he’d never spoken with, and had only seen in passing.  

 

“Because you deserve to know the truth,” Dooku spat.  “Not the dogma that the Jedi will preach to you. Qui-Gon was killed because of their blindness and arrogance, and even now they are too cowardly and set in their ways to acknowledge their failings.” 

 

Obi-Wan frowned at the comm, staying quiet.  He felt that his Grandmaster had more to say. He leaned back against Satine, grateful for her support, both physically and emotionally in this moment.  

 

“You are the brightest of Yoda’s lineage, Obi-Wan,” Dooku declared.  “You left the Order, as I will do now.”

 

Obi-Wan’s frown deepened.  “I did not leave because I lost faith in the order,” he pointed out.  “I left because I was prompted by the force to do so.” 

 

“And in doing so you have helped forge Mandalore into a major power, fusing traditional Mandalorian culture with the modern political climate after the horrors of civil war.”  

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  “Do you have a point to this?” He demanded, refusing to be distracted from the matter at hand.  

 

“The Order is failing,” Dooku said, sounding desperate now.  “The council sits in their high chamber, deciding where Jedi Knights go without thought to their safety or the ramifications of their decisions.  There are worlds that desperately need help, yet are ignored because the High Council relies to heavily on the whims of the Senate. There is still so much pain in the galaxy, war, slavery, famine… and the Jedi do nothing!”  Dooku took a breath, and Obi-Wan stared at the comm in shock. 

 

“The Jedi have lost their way,” Dooki continued after a moments silence, sounding much calmer after his heated diatribe.  “There was a time, not long ago in the grand scheme of the universe, that the Jedi were a truly neutral body. We helped those who needed help, not those who was important to the Galactic Senate.  The Jedi were seen as figures of hope to all, no matter their place in the universe. The Jedi Order has become stagnant, and refuses to change. And if it will not change, I refuse to be a part of it.”  

 

Obi-Wan was silent for several long moments, gathering his thoughts.  “I agree with you on many points, Master Dooku,” he admitted. “But… you must know this isn’t what Qui-Gon would have wanted for you. He would not want you to leave in anger.”  

 

Dooku snorted elegantly.  “I have been considering leaving the Order for quite some time,” he admitted. “This is just the final nail in the coffin.”  

 

Obi-Wan was silent.  

 

“I hope to speak to you more in the future, Duke Kryze,” Dooku finally said after several long moments of silence.  “Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you, and after Xanatos…” 

 

Obi-Wan bit his lip to hold back his sobs.  “May the Force be with you, Yan Dooku,” he said formally.  “In all your future endeavours.” 

 

There was an short, bitter, bark of a lough from Dooku.  “And you as well,” he said. 

 

The comm shut off, and Obi-Wan allowed his hand to drop, staring at the device in question.  

 

“Sati?” He finally said, voice wavering.  

 

She grabbed his face gently in both her hands, brushing the falling tears away with her thumbs before bringing their foreheads together and maneuvering him to sit in her lap, his swollen stomach pressed tightly against her slender but strong form.  He looked into her eyes and, seeing nothing but grief and sympathy in them, broke down into keening sobs as she held him tightly in her arms. 

  
  


 

#

 

  
  


**_23/04/32 BBY, Dusk_ **

**_Royal Palace_ **

**_Naboo_ **

  
  


Anakin stared at the flames, watching as they consumed Master Jinn’s body.  

 

He fought back tears, wondering what was going to happen to him now.  Master Jinn thought he should be a Jedi, but he was  _ gone _ and the rest of the Jedi hadn’t seemed to like him very much. Padm é had been so busy since the battle was over that she’d barely had time to say hello to him, and everyone else had seemed frantic about something or another.  

 

Master’s Yoda and Windu had shown up, the former making sure Anakin was taken care of, but he hadn’t seen them again until the funeral.  They were standing beside two strangers in ornate clothing. One of them in particular drew Anakin’s attention, despite his own grief. He was a heavily pregnant omega with long red hair tied in a topknot, wearing heavily embroidered black robes.  Standing beside him was a figure Anakin assumed to be his apha, an imposing woman with pale blond hair and an icy blue gaze. The alpha had her arm around the omega, who was making no effort to try to hide his falling tears. 

 

Anakin had seen him exchange heated words with Master Windu at the beginning of the funeral, who had looked at the omega with grief in his dark eyes, before pulling him into an embrace shortly before the funeral begin.  

 

Anakin hadn’t heard the words exchanged, but desperately wanted to know what the omega had said to make a cold man like Master Windu react like that.   

 

The flames were dying down now and several of the guest quietly left, some to grieve on their own, and others to go back to their duties.  Padm é put a soft hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at her, startled.  

 

“I’m needed back at the palace,” she whispered, eyes flickering to the pyre.  “Would you like to accompany me, or remain here?” 

 

Anakin bit his lip, fighting back tears.  He didn’t want to cry in front of Padm é and have her think he was just a silly baby.  “Stay here,” he finally said. 

 

Padm é ’s hand tightened on his shoulder.  “Okay,” she said, giving him a worried look.  Several other people left, and Sab é approached Padm é , whispering something in her ear.  Padm é sighed, giving him one more look of intense concern, before walking away.  She exchanged several words with the omega, who gave her a small watery smile before embracing her tightly.  

 

Anakin turned away, the tears finally falling down his cheeks as he watched the now sputtering flames. 

 

“Anakin?”  

 

Anakin jumped, looking up from the ground to see the red haired man kneeling in front of him, the blond woman standing several steps back and looking at both him and her husband with concern written on her noble face.  

 

“Yes?” He finally said, voice sounding small and pitiful to his own ears.  

 

“My name is Obi-Wan Kryze,” he said, smiling at him softly, if sadly.  “I was Master Qui-Gon’s last Padawan learner.” 

 

“He talked about you!”  Anakin exclaimed. “He said you left the Order because the force wanted you somewhere else.”  Anakin hadn’t really understood that bit, but Master Jinn had talked a lot about how Jedi followed the will of the force wherever it took them.  He’d clearly adored his former Padawan, and Anakin had hoped he would love Anakin as much when he became his apprentice. 

 

“He told me about you as well,” Obi-Wan said, before wincing, once hand caressing his stomach.  

 

“Ummmm, should you be kneeling like that?” Anakin asked awkwardly.  He hadn’t been around many (well, any) pregnant people, but Obi-Wan really didn’t look all that comfortable, and seemed as though he could topple over in a light breeze.  

 

“He should not be,” the alpha said in an exasperated tone, stepping forwards with a smile for Anakin, and an annoyed look for Obi-Wan.  

 

Obi-Wan just rolled bloodshot and teary eyes.  

 

“And don’t roll your eyes at me,” she continued.  “I know you’ll need help standing up again.” 

 

Obi-Wan just smiled again, winking at Anakin.  “Anakin can always help me if you won’t,” he teased before wincing again.  “But yes, I see your point.”

 

She gently helped him to his feet, keeping a steadying arm around his waist once he was standing.  

 

“Obi-Wan and I both have lots of stories about Master Jinn,” she said, pale eyes softening as she regarded Anakin.  “Why don’t you come back to the palace with us, and we can tell you some?” 

 

Anakin looked up at the couple hopefully.  “I would like that,” he admitted shyly. 

 

Obi-Wan held out a hand, and Anakin grabbed it hesitantly.  The hand was slightly cool, and much more calloused that Anakin had expected given the state of Obi-Wan’s clothing.  They walked slowly back to the palace, Obi-Wan telling Anakin about the time Qui-Gon had fallen into a lake and had his lightsaber eaten by a fish.   

 

Anakin giggled as they entered the palace, feeling much more comfortable now, even though he was still sad about Master Qui-Gon.  

 

Obi-Wan and Satine led Anakin to their chambers, which were much fancier then the ones Anakin had been given, and he’d thought his chambers had been the most amazing rooms he’d ever seen.  While Anakin looked around in awe, Obi-Wan spoke softly to someone at the door, and Satine set about making them each a warm drink. 

 

Once the drinks were made, she led him over to a deep purple sofa, and sat down beside him.  Obi-Wan joined them several moments later, sitting himself down with a sigh of contentment. 

 

Anakin watched him with wide eyes.  Obi-Wan’s force signature glowed unlike anyone he’d every met.  He wasn’t sure if that was just Obi-Wan, or if it was because of the baby growing inside him, and Anakin was too shy to ask.  

 

“It’s the baby,” Obi-Wan said, putting a warm around Anakin, drawing the boy to his side.  

 

Anakin blinked.  “How did you…” 

 

Obi-Wan chucked.  “You’re very strong in the force, young one,” he said.  “You were projecting your thoughts.” 

 

Anakin coloured sharply.  “Could anyone read my thoughts?” He demanded, feeling slightly panicked.  No wonder the Jedi Council hadn’t liked him! 

 

“Some people can,” Obi-Wan admitted.  “But I have a natural ability to read people.  I can teach you to shield your thoughts if you’d like.”  

 

Anakin nodded happily, settling back against Obi-Wan’s side.  “I’d like that.” 

 

Satine smiled at them both, pressing a steaming cup into Obi-Wan’s free hand.  He inhaled the steam happily. “Have you ever had hot chocolate Anakin?” She asked. 

 

Anakin shook his head, looking at the drink curiously.  Satine busied herself with adding some blue milk to a second mug, before encouraging Anakin to sit up slightly so he could take it without spilling.  

 

“Obi-Wan isn’t allowed anything with too much caffeine,” she explained as Anakin looked at the liquid curiously.  It smelled delicious. “This, we discovered, is a good replacement.” 

 

“And a good drink for you as well,” Obi-Wan added.  “Satine, on the other hand, will be drinking her disgusting caff on the other side of the sofa, far away from us both.”  

 

Satine snorted, but obligingly moved to the oppisode end, giving her husband an amused look as he glared at her.  

 

“The smell of caff makes him sick,” she explained.  “Go on, give it a try!” 

 

Anakin looked back down to the drink warily, before giving it a small sip.  

 

It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.  

 

He took a bigger gulp, grinning at Satine, then twisting to smile at Obi-Wan as well.  “This stuff is amazing!” 

 

Obi-Wan laughed, taking a sip of his own hot chocolate.  “I agree. And so much better than caff.” 

 

Anakin nodded in agreement, before buying his face in his mug, inhaling the fragrant steam.  

 

The adults exchanged a look over his sandy head, but Anakin didn’t notice.  

 

Anakin finally lowered the mug, licking his lips happily.  

 

“Now Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly.  “Would you tell us how you met Master Qui-Gon?”

 

“Obi-Wan heard the story from Qui-Gon,” Satine added, “but we would both love to hear it from you.”

 

Anakin gave them both confused looks.  “Uhhh, sure?” 

 

He set his now finished drink on the low table in from of the sofa, before scooting back to settle against Obi-Wan’s side.  Satine, now finished her smelly caff, sat close on his other side, a slender hand on his knee. Against his side the baby in Obi-Wan’s stomach moved, startling Anakin, but also making him feel warm and safe.  

 

He wondered if this was what it would be like to have two parents. 

 

“There isn’t much to tell,” Anakin started.  “Padme and Master Qui-Gon came to Watto’s shop looking for a part for their ship, and I met them then.”  

 

Obi-Wan and Satine exchanged another look over his head.  

 

“You worked at Watto’s shop?” Satine asked, voice low and soothing, but with an undercurrent of steel underneath.  

 

Anakin wrinkled his nose.  “Kinda?” He replied. “I mean, Watto owned us, so it’s not like we got paid, but I helped him run things, so I guess?”  

 

Satine’s hand tightened slightly on his knee, and Obi-Wan’s arm spasmed around his shoulders.  

 

Anakin flinched, wondering if he’d said something wrong and was going to be kicked out of their rooms.  

 

“Master Qui-Gon freed you?” Obi-Was asked 

 

Anakin nodded.  “Yup,” he confirmed.  “He bet on a pod race I was in, and when I won he got me and the part he needed. Once we got to the Jedi Temple he took me to the healers to get my chip taken out, and told me I was free!”  

 

Obi-Wan stroked Anakin’s hair in a soothing motion.  “And your mother?” He asked gently. 

 

Anakin felt his smile wilting, remembering his mother’s last embrace.  “She’s still on Tatooine,” Anakin said, fighting back tears. 

 

Satine squeezed his knee once again, before abruptly standing and striding over to the door, leaving the rooms with an intense look on her face.  Anakin thought it made her look like a vengeful goddess, especially with her long dress and robes. 

 

Obi-Wan hugged Anakin tightly.  “I’m so sorry Anakin,” he said, stroking his back.  Anakin leaned his head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, curling his body around the omega’s stomach. The baby turned in circles, and Anakin smiled slightly at the sensation despite himself.  

 

“Sorry for what?” Anakin finally asked in confusion.  

 

“No one should ever be a slave,” Obi-Wan said vehemently.  “And Qui-Gon never should have bet on you like that.” 

 

Anakin drew his head back, confused.  “But it worked!” 

 

Obi-Wan smiled sadly at him, green eyes filled with grief.  “That doesn’t make it right,” he said firmly. “And separating you from your mother was cruel.”  

 

Anakin lay his head back down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood.  “She told me to go, and not to look back.” 

 

“Because she loves you, and wants what’s best for you,” the Duke said.  Anakin sniffed against his shoulder, and tried not to cry. He’d already cried enough, and he didn’t want Obi-Wan to think he was a baby.  

 

“Your mother will be freed Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, a promise in his voice.  

 

Anakin looked up at him quickly, scanning Obi-Wan’s pale and beautiful face for any hint of a lie.  Seeing none, he finally gave in, collapsing against the omega and sobbing. 

 

“Oh Ani,” Obi-Wan whispered, hugging the boy to him as closely as he could with his middle in the way.  Anakin just cried harder, scenting at the gland in Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan smelled like cotton, wind, and something else that Anakin couldn’t identify, but that was sweet and comforting.  

 

The last time he’d felt this safe was in his mother’s embrace.  

 

A third hand stroked his back, and Anakin turned his face slightly to see Satine smiling gently down at him, back from wherever she’d gone.  He smiled back at her, before pulling away from Obi-Wan slightly. 

 

“I’m sorry!”  He wailed. “I got your nice robes all wet,” he continued miserably, looking at the wet patch on Obi-Wan’s robes with embarrassment.  

 

“I don’t care about that Ani,” Obi-Wan said, wiping Anakin’s face with a cloth Satine handed to him.  He made a strange face, one hand going to his stomach as the baby kicked. “I made more of a mess of my robes this morning.” 

 

Satine snorted from where she was watching the pair with a careful gaze.   “He spilt juice all over his white tunic,” she explained. “Then started crying because it was a waste of perfectly good juice.”  

 

“Yes, thank you for that explanation,” Obi-Wan snarked at his wife with a small glare. “So you see little one, a few tears are the least of my concern. 

 

Anakin looked down, his eyes widening when he could see the baby move through Obi-Wan’s robes.  

 

“Doesn’t that hurt?”  He demanded, changing the subject abruptly. 

 

“A bit,” Obi-Wan admitted.  “They don’t have much room left.”  

 

“So it’s going to come out soon?!”  Anakin demanded with no small amount of excitement. 

 

Behind him Satine made a strange noise, as though she were choking on air.  

 

“Not quite yet,” Obi-Wan said, smoothing Anakin’s hair back from his face and ignoring his spouse.   “In about a month.” 

 

Anakin pouted.  “Can I see it when it’s born?”  

 

Obi-Wan smiled.  “If you’d like,” he replied.  “Now,” he continued. “I need to speak with Master Yoda and Master Windu.”  

 

Satine, finished spluttering now, took the mug from his hand.  “Need some help up?” She asked dryly. 

 

Obi-Wan lay his head back on the high back of the sofa.  “Probably,” he admitted, one hand still cradling his stomach.  The baby squirmed again as Anakin watched with fascination.

 

“What’s going to happen to me next?” Anakin asked quietly, finally moving his eyes from Obi-Wan’s stomach and to his own knees.  

 

Obi-Wan sat up straighter with Satine’s help, both of them regarding Anakin with kind expressions.  

 

“I think that’s really up to you, Anakin,” Satine mused.  “If you’d like, you could come back to Manadalore with us, or I’m sure Queen Amidala would gladly allow you to stay on Naboo.”  

 

“You could also go back to Tatooine,” Obi-Wan pointed out, before laughing at the look on Anakin’s face.  “Or not,” he chuckled. 

 

“I want to be a Jedi Knight,” Anakin admitted, not wanting to look at Obi-Wan’s face at his declaration.

 

Obi-Wan put a finger under his chin.  “You would make an amazing Jedi Knight,” he said.  “If that’s what you truly want.” 

 

Anakin nodded.  “But I don’t think any Jedi but Master Qui-Gon liked me,” he continued miserably.  

 

“You’re a child Ani,” Obi-Wan scoffed.  “They didn’t dislike you. They’re just grumpy sometimes.”  

 

Anakin laughed, startled, before meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes.  Obi-Wan winked at him. “Now,” Obi-Wan said. “If you could both help me?”

 

Satine chuckled, before moving to stand in front of Obi-Wan and holding out her hands.  Anakin scrambled to copy her, and together they hauled Obi-Wan to his feet. 

 

Anakin held on to the omega’s distended waist, looking up at him in concern.  “You okay?” He asked nervously. Obi-Wan had felt awfully unstable when he’d first got to his feet.  

 

Obi-Wan sighed, fixing his hair.  “I’m fine, Ani,” he smiled. “I just don’t have the best balance right now.”  

 

Satine muttered something under her breath, and ignored the glare Obi-Wan sent her.  “He’s right,” she said defensively. Obi-Wan’s glare only intensified. Anakin giggled from his spot at his other side, still holding onto Obi-Wan’s waist.  

 

“I’m okay now Ani,” he said again.  “You and Satine entertain each other while I go and speak to Master Yoda and Master Windu.”  

 

Anakin let go of him, but gave him a deeply suspicious look.  “Should you be going on your own?” 

 

Obi-Wan snorted, shrugging off his damp outer robe.  “Cabor will be coming with me,” he explained as he flung the robe over the back of a chair and walked carefully over to the door.  

 

“He’ll be okay Anakin,” Satine said.  “And while he’s gone we should get you in the bath.” 

 

“Bath?!” 

 

Obi-Wan bit his lower lip, watching Anakin’s bewildered face in amusement.  “Good luck,” he said to Satine. She was already shrugging off her outer robe in preparation for the battle of getting a desert raised boy into a tub full of water.  

 

“Thanks,” she said wryly.  

 

He shook his head at the both of them, before stepping out into the hall and smiling at Cabor when he spotted his guard, along with Satine’s, standing in companionable silence.  

 

“Everything all right?”  Cabor asked, immediately moving to Obi-Wan’s side.  Kania Ella didn’t move from her post, but gave Obi-Wan a concerned look.  

 

Obi-Wan sighed internally.  He was done with everyone treating him as though he was made of glass.  

 

“Everything’s fine,” he replied.  “Someone’s already addressing the situation with Anakin’s mother I assume?”  

 

Kania nodded.  “Zamar’s on it,” she confirmed.  

 

“Good,” Obi-Wan smiled.  “Keep me updated.” He turned to walk down the hall towards Mace’s chambers.

 

“Sir?” Cabor asked, following him without question.  

 

“I need to speak with Mace and Yoda,” he declared, moving as quickly as he could without waddling.  Cabor easily kept pace beside him, a small grin on his dark face. 

 

“They’re about to get yelled at, aren’t they?” He asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.  They stopped at Mace’s door, Cabor standing at attention in the hallway, while Obi-Wan pushed it open.  

 

Obi-Wan walked into Mace’s chambers without announcing himself, knowing that he and Yoda would have sensed his presence from a mile away.  Especially as he wasn’t bothering to release his irritation into the Force. 

 

“Hello Masters,” he said as a greeting, shooting them both a mild glare.  They were both seated on the comfortable looking sofa in the centre in the room, though Mace leapt to his feet immediately to usher Obi-Wan into the room and onto a comfortable chair, before shoving a glass of cold water into his hand. 

 

Obi-Wan let him fuss, knowing he wouldn’t listen to anything that was said until he was sitting and comfortable.  Yoda just stared at him with his luminous green eyes, wondering what he was going to say. 

 

“So,” he started once Mace was seated again.  “Are you going to explain to me why Anakin, a child, is sure that you hate him?”  

 

Mace blinked, startled, and cleary not expecting this.  

 

“The way you treated him is appalling!” He continued, glaring at the two most senior members of the Jedi Order.  

 

“Our intention, that was not,” Yoda said, ears drooping.  “Too fearful, he is. Too much attachment to his mother, he has.”

 

“The boy is dangerous,” Mace explained.  

 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.  “Of course he was fearful!”  He explained. “He was torn from his mother and his home, and saw a sith all in one day! Then he was taken from an outer rim world to the Galactic Core.  That would be terrifying for an adult, let alone a nine year old.” Obi-Wan took a sip of his water when he saw Mace glance down at it, mollifying the alpha.  “Then he’s forced to meet the full High Council, who immediately tell him how dangerous he is.” 

 

Mace opened his mouth, before closing it abruptly.  “Well, when you put it like that…” 

 

“I’m not finished,” Obi-Wan snapped, fighting the urge to stand and pace.  As frustrated as he was, he knew it wouldn’t do any good. And he’d need help to stand up.  “Did you know Anakin was a slave?” 

 

The two Jedi Master’s exchanged startled looks.  “Know that, we did not,” Yoda admitted. 

 

“Qui-Gon, Force bless him, only freed Anakin and not his mother,” Obi-Was continued.  “Anakin’s fearful for her for good reason.” 

 

“The path to the darkside, fear it.”

 

“Nine years old, and not a Jedi yet, Anakin is,” Obi-Wan said, staring Yoda down.  “He has had none of our teaching. It would be preposterous to assume a nine year old  _ slave _ would know how to master his emotions, especially not when his only family is concerned.”  

 

Mace was shaking his head.  “I understand that Obi-Wan, and will definitely be apologising to the boy.  But that doesn’t change the fact that the force is basically yelling in my face about danger when he is involved.”  

 

“That boy,” Obi-Wan spat, “has the highest midichlorian count I’ve ever heard of.  He has the potential to be one of the strongest Jedi the galaxy has ever seen. And,” he continued, seeing Yoda open his mouth to reply. “Would you rather that power be left on it’s own, angry at the Jedi Order for it’s treatment of him as a child, or raised in the light?”

 

Yoda made an odd sound with his throat.  “Too old, he is.” 

 

Obi-Wan smiled at the old master.  “I’m not saying he should be taken as a Padawan right now,” Obi-Wan soothed.  “I do, however, have a compromise.” 

 

Mace and Yoda exchanged another glance, and Obi-Wan sensed a murmur of force communication between the two.  

 

“We’re listening, Obi-Wan.”  

 

“Take him into the creche,” Obi-Wan said.  “Re-evaluate him after a year. Satine has people working to free his mother, so that should help to lessen his fear and attachment. And he should see a mind healer,” Obi-Wan added.  “No matter how well adjusted he seems, he’s spent his entire life in slavery. That will have left scars.” 

 

Mace was looking with him with a guarded expression, and Yoda had his large eyes closed, listening to the movement of the force around them.  

 

“Anakin is a brilliant pilot, and has the mind of an engineer.  If after a year or so the council still does not feel he has potential as a Jedi he could easily go to one of the corps.  The Jedi will lose nothing by having one more initiate, and will either gain an ally or the greatest Jedi in millenia.”

 

Obi-Wan sat in silence, caressing his stomach with one hand automatically.  The baby was finally settling, much to his relief. He was definitely looking forwards to them being born. His was sick of his insides being kicked and hit.  

 

Finally, Mace spoke.  “We will call the full council and discuss the matter further Obi-Wan,” he declared.  “But I for one am on your side.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You would’ve been on the council, without a doubt, had you remained in the Order.  I haven’t had a chasitment like that in years.” 

 

Obi-Wan laughed, moving his hand from his stomach to his lower back, which was perpetually sore now.  “You deserved it,” he said. “Yoda?” 

 

“Mmmmmmm, agree with you, I do,” the old master said.  “Already the force around young Skywalker, lighter it is.”       

 

Obi-Wan’s expression softened.  “You were so concerned with his strength and his potential that you forgot he’s just a scared youngling.  I just reminded you. Now,” he added sheepishly. “Who’s going to help me out of this chair?”

  
  


 

#

 

  
  


**_29/04/32 BBY, mid-morning_ **

**_Jedi Temple_ **

**_Coruscant_ **

  
  


Obi-Wan walked the halls of the Jedi Temple nostalgically, meandering towards the creche where Mace has assured him Anakin had been settled. Cabor had opted to stay with the ship, assured by Obi-Wan as well as several of the Jedi in the hanger bay that his charge would be safe and well looked after.  

 

Satine and the rest of the Mandalorian retinue had left for Sundari, much to her dismay.  There was just too much that needed to be done for her to accompany him to the Temple. She’d only left him when Mace and Yoda had personally assured her of his safety as though he were a child who needed to be looked after and not a planetary ruler in his own right.  

 

The baby kicked at his ribcage, having flipped itself over recently in preparation for birth, reminding him that he was, in fact, relatively helpless for the moment.  

 

Still, he needed to see for his own eyes that Anakin had settled in the creche, and wanted to see his friends again before the baby was born and he became to busy for much of anything.  

 

He turned a hallway into the section of the temple used exclusively for the younglings, giving a wide-eyes child a small smile of greeting as he approached the door leading to the Fox Clan to which Anakin had been assigned.  

 

The initiate smiled back at him, before going back to whatever they’d been doing.  

 

To Obi-Wan’s trained eye, it looked like some sort of prank. 

 

He huffed a small laugh, and left the small zabrak to it.  He’d leave the mischievous initiate for the creche masters to deal with.  

 

He palmed open the door to the Fox Clan, feeling the Force signatures of approximately 20 younglings wash over him like a balm to his soul.  

 

“Hello Obi-Wan!” 

 

Obi-Wan grinned at Master Kklirlo, a brindle Wookie who’d been a creche master for over 200 years.  Obi-Wan still remembered him fondly from his own time in the creche, despite being in a different clan.  

 

“Master Kklirlo,” he said, bowing as low as he could, which wasn’t very far.  The Wookie slapped him gently on the arm. 

 

“None of that child,” he scolded.  “Now. Let me look at you.” 

 

Obi-Wan stood, leaning against Kkliro’s strong arm.  The Master’s warm force signature washed over him as he scanned Obi-Wan with warm brown eyes, checking his and his child’s health more thoroughly than most healers would ever be able to.  

 

“Oh young one,” he finally said, tears in his eyes as he pulled Obi-Wan in for a hug.  Obi-Wan hugged back gladly, taking comfort in the old Master’s presence. “He’s beautiful.”  

 

Obi-Wan nodded in against the Wookie’s chest.  “He is,” he agreed. 

 

Kkliro pulled back after several long moments, taking a second to wipe tears from Obi-Wan’s wet cheeks.  “You’re here about Anakin then?” He asked, leading Obi-Wan over to a soft chair in a side room. Obi-Wan settled into it with a happy sigh.  He’d barely been on his feet for a half hour, but was incredibly thankful for the chance to sit down. 

 

“Yes,” he replied once he was mostly settled.  

 

Kkliro rolled his eyes, gesturing for him to lean forwards, and stuffed a pillow behind his back.  “Idiot crecheling,” he scolded. “You never were one to take care of yourself.” With that he left the room. 

 

Obi-Wan stared after him, blinking.  

 

Well then.  

 

“Obi-Wan!”  

 

“Hello Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled, opening his arms for a hug.  He didn’t even attempt to lever himself out of the chair, much to Kkliro’s obvious approval.  The Wookie shut the door, leaving him and Anakin in privacy. 

 

Anakin burrowed himself in his arms, resting his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck.  “I missed you,” he admitted, his breath ticking Obi-Wan’s skin. 

 

Obi-Wan gave the boy a soft squeeze.  “I missed you too, little one.” 

 

Anakin pulled back, squishing himself in the small space between Obi-Wan’s side and the chair.  

 

“Now,” Obi-Wan said after several moments of silence.  “What’s wrong.” 

 

Anakin’s brow furrowed.  “What if I don’t get chosen as a Padawan?” He demanded bluntly. 

 

“Than there are other options open to you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, briefly debating on whether or not to share his somewhat turbulent time as an initiate with Anakin before discarding the idea for the time being. 

 

Anakin was already nervous enough.  

 

“Like what?” He asked suspiciously.  Cleary no one had mentioned there were other opportunities for him.  

 

“The Corps,” Obi-Wan answered simply.  “Or university, if you find a subject you’re interested enough in. You’re always welcome on Mandalore, and I’m sure Queen Amidala will likewise always welcome you to Naboo.” 

 

Anakin was silent, and Obi-Wan pulled him closer to his side.  The boys warmth against his side was soothing. 

 

“But I want to be a Jedi Knight,” Anakin admitted softly.  “I don’t want to go to the corps. I want to be able to help people.”  

 

“You can help people without being a Jedi,” Obi-Wan pointed out.  “But you have a year before you even have the potential to become a Padawan young one.”  

 

Anakin’s nose wrinkled in dismay.  “Master Kkliro told me,” he said. “A year is so long!”  

 

Obi-Wan laughed.  Oh to be so young!  “Most Padawans aren’t chosen until they’re eleven or twelve,” Obi-Wan told the boy.  “You’ll be right on track.” 

 

Anakin stayed silent, mulling over Obi-Wan’s words.  “Do I really have to see a mind-healer?” He finally whined, deciding to drop the issue of becoming a Padawan for the time being.  

 

“They’ll help you,” Obi-Wan murmured.  “Your life has changed a great deal. Even adults would have difficulties with it all.”  

 

Obi-Wan sensed the boy roll his eyes.  “Brat,” he teased. 

 

Anakin stuck out his tongue in retaliation, before falling silent.  Obi-Wan closed his eyes, listening to the currents of the force. Anakin was a supernova of untapped potential, and his force signature felt like standing next to a fire.  

 

“Master Yoda told me my mom was freed,” Anakin finally said after several minutes of silence.  

 

Obi-Wan stayed silent, sensing that Anakin had more to say on the matter.  

 

“Did you free her?”  

 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, looking down to see Anakin staring at him with an intense expression on his small face.  

 

“Satine and I did, yes,” he readily admitted.  

 

Anakin froze, body as still as a statue, before throwing his skinny arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, sobbing against his scent gland.  

 

Obi-Wan hugged the boy, making soft shushing noises.  

 

“Thank you, thank you, _ thank you.” _

 

“She, and all slaves, deserve freedom,” Obi-Wan finally said quietly once Anakin’s cries had started to taper off.  “Satine and I are unable to free every slave, and the Jedi Order is too closely tied to the Senate to go to war with the Hutts, but we could free your mother.”  

 

Anakin wiped at his steaming eyes.  “I won’t ever be able to repay you,” he said with a miserable frown. 

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  “You can repay me by doing well in your studies, by being kind always, and by making sure to work hard at whatever you do,” he said.  

 

Anakin remained quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands.  

 

Obi-Wan sighed.  “I wanted to free your mother,” he said forcefully, putting a finger under Anakin’s chin to make the child look at him.  “And Satine and I are planetary monaches, money honestly isn’t an issues,” he pointed out. “I wanted to free her for you, and also for her.  Your mother is an incredible woman.” 

 

Anakin finally relaxed against his side again.  “You met her?”

 

“Satine and I spoke with her,” he confirmed.  “And I’m sure you’ll be able to speak with her soon enough.”  

 

“What will she do now?” Anakin asked plaintively.  

 

“I think she wants to stay on Tatooine,” Obi-Wan replied, laughing at the look of absolute horror on Anakin’s face.  “She wants to be a midwife.” 

 

The look of horror changed to one of understanding.  “She’ll love that,” he said. He stayed silent for several minutes, apparently thinking over the events of the day.  Already, his force signature felt lighter. 

 

“Can I keep in contact with you?”  

 

Obi-Wan brushed a lock of hair out of the boys face.  “I would love that Anakin,” he said honestly. “I’ll give Master Kkliro my comm codes. Now,” he continued, seeing the time and sensing the old creche-master’s returning force signature.  “I believe it’s time for initiates to have their supper,” he finished. 

 

Anakin’s nose wrinkled in dismay, but he obligingly stood.  Several seconds later Kkliro was at the door, a smile on his aged face.  “Perfect timing Anakin,” he complimented. Anakin blushed. 

 

Kkliro walked over to Obi-Wan, offering a furry arm.  “Don’t even try youngling,” he said, before practically lifting Obi-Wan from his seat.  “Will you be eating with us?” 

 

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “I told Master Yoda I would eat with him,” he said.  

 

Kkliro gave him an appraising look.  “And you have the perfect excuse not to eat any of Yoda more… eclectic dished,” he chortled.  

 

Obi-Wan looked down his nose at the Wookie, and impressive feat considering the Master was well over seven feet tall.  

 

Kkliro pulled him in for another hug before he could respond, ruining the effect.  “Off with you them,” he said, leading Obi-Wan over to the door. 

 

Obi-Wan gave the creche master an fond look, before reaching his hand out to Anakin, who was standing off to the side of the room.  

 

Anakin darted into the circle of his arms again, hugging him tightly and giving his swollen middle section a pat.  “I’ll miss you,” the boy said, his voice muffled in Obi-Wan’s robes. Obi-Wan hugged him back just as tightly. 

 

“And I you,” he replied.  “Now, off for food,” he ordered, giving the boy a gentle push to the door leading to the Fox Clan, a reassuring smile on his face.  Kkliro was already waiting, patient as only someone who’d worked with children for over a century could be. Anakin scuttled over to the Wookie, grasping the massive hand once he was in reach.  

 

Obi-Wan’s smile widened.  Anakin was in good hands. He waved until the boy was out of sight, before deflating a bit, both hands going to the small of his back.  At this rate the baby was going to walk out of him. He left the Fox Clan, feeling more at peace about Anakin, and began to meander down the hall towards the main area of the temple.  He did have to meet Yoda, but despite what he’d inferred to Kkliro and Anakin, had plenty of time before he had to do so. 

 

“By the force, you are massive!” A voice yelled from down the corridor.  Obi-Wan turned, arranging his face in an affronted look even as he fought the urge to grin when he saw the two figures approaching him.  

 

“What did you do, swallow a planet?”  

 

Obi-Wan gave in and laughed, accepting the hug Garen Muln offered.  

 

“It certainly feels like that sometimes,” he admitted when Garen released him, and immediately found himself in Bant Eerin’s much gentler embrace.  

 

Her webbed hands went to his middle when she let him go, and Obi-Wan could feel her unique force empathy inspecting his child.  

 

“Oh, Obi,” she said, sounding near tears.  

 

He kissed her cheek, swallowing when she pulled back to meet his eyes.  She’d always been able to see right through him. 

 

“How are you doing?” She asked softly.  She and Garen led him over to a secluded window nook overlooking Coruscant’s skyline.  He sat, and resisted the urge to put his swollen feet up. He had to maintain some sense of propriety in the temple after all.  

 

Garen threw himself down beside him, maneuvering his large form so that Obi-Wan could lean on him, supporting Obi-Wan’s back and sides. Bant sat on his other side, angling her body so she was facing him, still grasping one of his hands in both of hers. She gave him a wry look, before grabbing his legs and pulling his feet into her lap.  

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“I’ve researched humanoid pregnancy,” she said loftily.  “You need to keep your feet up.” 

 

Obi-Wan let his eyebrow fall, thankful for Garen’s support at his back.  His childhood friend had long since outstripped him in size, and it felt like leaning against a tree trunk. 

 

They sat in silence for seval long moments, simply content to bask in one another's force signatures.  The three friends (along with Reeft) had kept in contact over the years, but seeing each other was getting increasingly difficult now that his childhood friends were being sent out into the galaxy with increasing frequency.  Bant was approaching her healers trials, while Reeft was stuck off world researching something or another. Garen was also near his trials, and Obi-Wan new he was incredilby nervous, though the massive man hid it well under a laid back attitude.  

 

Garen laid on of his hands on Obi-Wan’s stomach, laughing gently when the baby kicked against his hand.  Bant blinked her large eyes. “I saw that,” she said, sounding amused. “You must be bruised on the inside.”  

 

Obi-Wan smiled, leaning his head back against Garen’s chest comfortably.  “Probably,” he agreed. 

 

Bant’s smile faded away into a look of deep sorrow.  She took both of his hands in her own. “I know the situations are different,” she started, “but you were there for me when Master Tahl passed into the Force.  I know we’re both incredibly busy, but I will always have time if you need to talk. You know that, right?” 

 

Obi-Wan swallowed down tears.  Master Tahl had been killed on New Apsolon shortly before his last mission as a Jedi Padawan to Mandalore.  He missed her to this day. “I know,” he said in lieu of anything else. Garen’s arms tightened around him. “Thank you,” he said honestly.  

 

Bant smiled gently, looking more like herself.  Obi-Wan had never liked when his old friend frowned - it was somehow expressive on her face.  She squeezed his hands again, cuddling in close like when there were all in the creche together.  “Now,” she said, knowing that Obi-Wan didn’t want to discuss Qui-Gon at the moment. “Tell me about your name ideas?”  

 

Garen huffed out a laugh, the sound echoing in his chest.  “I suggest Garen,” he drawled. “Or Clee,” he said, naming his own Master and friend.  “Especially if the baby has red hair,” he finished in reference to Clee Rhara’s fiery locks.  “I swear, Master Clee’s hair is ever brighter than yours.” 

 

Bant immediately gave Garen an indignant look, before launching into her own ideas.  Obi-Wan smiled, feeling at ease for the first time since Yan Dooku had informed him about Qui-Gon’s death.   

 

Yoda could wait.  This, being with old friends, was more important than being on time for dinner.  

  
  


 

#

 

  
  


**At an undisclosed location,**

**Date unknown**

 

Jango Fett sat in a booth in a corner of the bar, watching as the crowd became rowdier as the night went on.  He’d just finished a job, and had some spare credits to spend. 

 

“Mind if I sit?” 

 

Jango raised his eyebrows, looking at the hooded stranger in disdain.  “Yeah, I do,” he replied bluntly. 

 

The man sat down anyway, and Jango fought the urge to shoot the jackass on principle alone.  

 

That would be rude, and more importantly, would get him kicked out of the bar and he hadn’t finished his drink yet.  

 

Jango started the figure down, impressed despite himself when they didn’t flinch at his glare.

 

“I have a job for you, Jango Fett.”  

 

Jango stared, a taunting look on his face.  “I’m not interested,” he said. 

 

The figured huffed out a laugh.  “Oh, you will be once you hear what I have to say.  How would you like to get one over on the Jedi?” 

 

Jango sat back in his seat, taking a sip of his whiskey.  He savoured the flavour, slowly finishing his drink as he took in his companion.  

 

The other figure didn’t move as they were observed and simply watched Jango from behind the shadows created by their hood.  

 

Jango set down his drink, signalling to the bartender for another.  

 

“I’m listening.”  

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look... I know it's been ages. But I just couldn't finish one part! I had nearly 30 pages written and edited, but there was one part that just didn't work, so I gave up in frustration for a few months. I checked my inbox a few weeks ago and noticed a couple more reviews that gave me the kick in the ass I needed to finish this chapter! I do (honestly) have the next one and this whole story planned out, but haven't written much. Hopefully it won't be so long before I have the next one written now that my motivation for this is back! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the rating of this fic as a precaution. There is no rape in this story, nor will there ever be. Again, I've upped the warning as a precaution. If you're potential triggered by any potential iffy situations please go to the bottom, where I've included more detail. There will be spoilers though. If you'd rather just avoid it, just skip the last section of the chapter.

**_03/07/31 BBY, afternoon_ **

**_At the Jedi Temple_ **

**_Coruscant_ **

 

Anakin danced back to the creche, a large grin fighting to break out on his face.  It was nearly a week past his eleventh birthday, and he had just received the best gift imaginable.  

 

Master Plo Koon had asked him to be his Padawan!  

 

Master Koon, who shared his love of flying and didn’t seem to mind Anakin’s occasional fits of temper (though they were getting more rare) or that Anakin had a different level of education to the other initiates.  Part of him would always be sad about Master Qui-Gon, and disappointed that Obi-Wan was no longer a part of the order and couldn’t take him as a Padawan, but that part was overshadowed by his excitement and eagerness to let his friend know.  

 

Master Koon had laughed at the hug Anakin had given him, ruffling his hair affectionately with a clawed hand before ordering him gently back to the creche to pack his things.  He’d had to go off to a council meeting, but had given Anakin the codes to his (their!) quarters, along with permission to use the comm system to tell Obi-Wan the good news. 

 

The council had allowed Anakin to keep in touch with the omega - apparently recognizing that their friendship was helpful to Anakin.  Or Obi-Wan had brow beat them into it. Considering he’d been several weeks shy of giving birth at the time, no one had been willing to argue with him.

 

Even if they were, Anakin mused, Master Mace would have growled them all into submission.  Anakin was still was a bit intimidated by the foreboding Master of the Order, but appreciated his dedication to their mutual friend all the same.    

 

He gathered his few possessions from the creche, happily accepting the hug from Master  Kklirlo , before heading to the area of the temple where the council members lived. He inclined his head to the the few Jedi he passed in lieu of bowing and risking dropping his things.  It was mid-morning and most initiates and Padawans were in class, while the Knights and Masters were likewise occupied. 

 

After getting lost several times he finally approached Master Plo’s door and carefully entered the passcode.  Master Plo would be adding his biosignature to the locking mechanism soon enough, but for now the passcode would suffice.  

 

He’d been in the Kel Dor’s quarters before for extra lessons, but it was different now.  Now he was coming home. 

 

He put his stuff carefully in his room, being sure not to enter Master Plo’s chambers.  His room was kept at a different atmosphere so he didn’t need to wear his protective mask, and was protected by a bio-field to stop cross contamination. 

 

Anakin chewed his lip, considering whether he wanted to put his possessions away yet.  He shrugged after several moments, far too eager to call Obi-Wan. As a member of the Jedi Order and former slave he didn’t have much.  He could do it later easily enough. 

 

He ran over to the comm system, ignoring the soft chair to stand in front of it on bouncing feet, and dialed Obi-Wan’s personal number from memory.  It was early on Mandalore, but he was sure the omega would be awake. 

 

Sure enough, Obi-Wan’s figure shimmered into existence several moments later.  “Ani!” he smiled in greeting. “This is a welcome surprise.” 

 

Anakin grinned, making a silly face at Arlan who was cradled in Obi-Wan’s arms.  The baby was nearly fourteen months old now, and was fascinated by the comm system.  “I know it’s not our usually time,” Anakin explained, finally sitting in the chair with his legs crossed underneath him. “But guess what!”  

 

Obi-Wan smiled indulgently, clearly suspecting what Anakin wanted to say.  “What?” He asked, gently shaking his head at Arlan when the baby attempted to open his bearer’s robes.  He’d been weaned for several weeks, but still tried to nurse on occasion. Obi-Wan distracted him with a piece of fruit.  

 

“Master Plo asked me to be his Padawan!” Anakin burst out in a rush, huge grin on his face.  

 

Obi-Wan’s smile widened.  “Congratulations Anakin,” he gushed, eyes alight with glee visible even through the hologram.  “That’s amazing, and Master Plo is a perfect match for you.” 

 

“You mean he’s as much of a stick jockey as I am,” Anakin laughed.  

 

Obi-Wan snorted, shifting Arlan in his arms.  He’d been a large baby, and was becoming a large toddler as well.  

 

“That too,” Obi-Wan agreed.  “How are things otherwise?” 

 

Anakin shrugged.  “I think all my yearmates are finally over me coming to the temple so late,” he answered dryly.  “Or at least they’re better at hiding it.”

 

Obi-Wan raised an elegant eyebrow. “They’d better be over it,” he said.  “You’re an wonderful child Anakin,” he praised. “They would be fools not to see that.”  

 

Anakin blushed, always shocked and pleased when Obi-Wan praised him so openly.  The Jedi were kind and made sure he knew he was valued, but were often reserved in bearing.  Obi-Wan was not, and his frank kindness reminded him of his mother. Speaking of….

 

“Hey,” Anakin said, changing the subject.  “What did you say your father’s name was again?” 

 

Obi-Wan looked briefly surprised, but answered quickly nonetheless.  “Cliegg Lars,” he replied. He shifted Arlan again, smiling softly when the baby rested his blond head on his shoulder, sucking on his thumb contentedly.  “Why?” 

 

“Did he tell you he was going to Tatooine?”  

 

Obi-Wan nodded.  “He was originally from there,” Obi-Wan explained.  “He left when he met my mother - she was like you and couldn’t stand the desert - but now that my grandparents have passed he was going to go back to their homestead and take care of it.”  

 

Anakin grinned.  “He met my mom,” he giggled.  “She was telling me, the last time I spoke with her, she has a date.”  

 

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open slightly, and Anakin giggled.  He almost never took Obi-Wan off guard. Finally Obi-Wan laughed, startling Arlan from his position on his shoulder.  The baby laughed as well, smacking his bearer in the face with a small palm. Obi-Wan caught his son’s hand, kissing it gently.  

 

“I think I need to give my father a call,” he chucked.  “If they keep dating we could end up step brothers,” he pointed out.  

 

Anakin grabbed his crossed knees, rocking gleefully in the chair.  “I know! That would be wizard! And don’t you have a little brother?”  

 

“Owen, he’d be about your age, or a couple years younger,” Obi-Wan confirmed, looking bemused.  

 

“Wizard,” Anakin breathed.  As a child he’d dreamed of having a family, for all that he loved his mother, and now he could potentially get a stepfather, two stepbrothers, a nephew, as well as an aunt through Satine.  

 

Obi-Wan smiled indulgently, knowing what was going through his young friends mind.  “Ow!” 

 

“Obi?”  

 

The omega gave his son a gentle glare, before looking over at Anakin.  “I think I have to cut this short,” he said dryly. “This one’s in need of his breakfast.”  

 

Anakin frowned, disappointed.  “I guess I did call pretty early,” he finally admitted.  

 

“We don’t mind,” Obi-Wan protested immediately.  “I love talking to you, and I know Arlan loves seeing you.”  

 

Anakin blushed.  

 

“And,” Obi-Wan said, bouncing the now fussing Arlan gently up and down.  “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

 

“Really? You’re coming to Coruscant?”  

 

The Duke nodded.  “I have business in the Senate I’ve been putting off,” he explained.  “And while I’d like to keep putting it off, it does mean I can visit the temple.  I’d love you to show me how you’ve advanced in your kata’s since I’ve last seen you.”  

 

Anakin grinned.  “Is Arlan coming?” 

 

Obi-Wan snorted.  “I’m not exposing him to the Senate anytime soon,” he said.  “He and Satine will get some one on one time. Now that he’s finally weaned I can leave him.”  

 

Anakin pounted, but understood.  The Senate always felt weird to his force sense, and it would probably make Arlan upset.  

 

As if knowing they were talking about him Arlan let out a whine, grasping at Obi-Wan’s face again.  

 

“Alright, alright,” Obi-Wan laughed.  He looked towards to holo. “I’ll comm again if I can, but if not I’ll see you soon, okay Ani?”  

 

Anakin nodded.  “See you soon. Bye Obi-Wan, bye Arlan!”  

 

“Wave!” Obi-Wan encouraged, waving at the comm himself.  Arlan soon copied him before starting to fuss again. 

 

“Bye Ani!”  Obi-Wan called, before his figure vanished.  

 

Anakin smiled, always feeling more at peace after talking to the omega.  Master Mace suspected that might mean he would present as an alpha, but Anakin didn’t really care either way.  Obi-Wan was like his big brother or father, and that would never change, whether he presented as an alpha, beta or omega.  

 

He twisted in the chair, looking towards his room with a sigh.  He should probably put all his stuff away. 

 

_**#** _

  
  


**_10/07/31 BBY - one Week Later_ **

**_Jedi Temple, Coruscant_ **

**_Just past 03:00_ **

**_In the Chambers of Master Koon and Padawan Skywalker_ **

  
  


Plo Koon woke up in the darkness of his room, resisting the urge to call his lightsaber to his hand.  

 

Something was wrong.  

 

Anakin.  

 

He put on his mask and goggles with efficient movements, knowing he needed to get to his young Padawan’s side.  Anakin had settled in as his apprentice as well as could be expected. They were well matched. But he also knew his youngling was incredibly strong in the force, and felt his emotions intensely.  Whether he was having a nightmare or was feeling something more serious, he would need his Master by his side. 

 

Mask finally on he opened his door, ignoring the tingling feeling as he passed through the forcefield separating his chambers from the rest of the quarters. He checked on the training bond again, feeling nothing but sheer terror coming from the boy.  He sent soothing emotions through their bond, but could tell they had little effect. Using using enhanced speed to get into his Padawan’s room, he settled on the bed beside the boy, barely taking note of the objects floating in the air, or his robes rustling with static electricity.  

 

Anakin’s eyes were open wide, head thrown back as he made soft keening sounds.  Plo fought the urge to swear. He’d had Padawan’s prone to visions before, but it had been a great many years.  He spared a thought for Yoda, hoping it was enough to wake the ancient Master. Yoda, with his ability with the unifying force, would be much better at interpreting any vision Anakin had.  Plo would focus on calming his child. 

 

“Anakin,” he said aloud and through their training bond.  Anakin jerked, small Padawan braid fluttering behind him. “Padawan, it’s time to wake up and come back.”  He infused his voice with the force, commanding the small human to come back. “Come Padawan.” He picked the child up, holding him in his lap.  He took one hand in his, while his other gently carded through Anakin’s hair. 

 

A glass figure shattered.  

 

“Ani,” he said again, pushing harder with the force and tightening his grip on the boy’s hand.  “You need to come back.” 

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Anakin’s eyes closed before flying open again.  The bright eyes studied him intently as he came back to reality, before he burst into tears, throwing his arms around Plo’s neck in a stranglehold.  

 

“Oh child,” he sighed, hugging his Padawan tightly.  Anakin sobbed against his shoulder, projecting fear and confusing through their bond and into the force surrounding him.  

 

Plo felt a tug on his own force signature, and closed his eyes in relief as he opened the door to their quarters with a careless wave of his clawed hand.  Yoda had heard him then. 

 

“M...ma… master!” Anakin hiccuped, taking large gulps of air.  

 

“I’m here,” Plo soothed, rocking the human back and forth in his lap.  “You’re safe little one.” 

 

Anakin pulled back, eyes wild.  He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Yoda entering the room, still wearing mussed sleep clothes.  

 

“Master Yoda?”  He questioned, some confusion breaking into his more volatile emotions.  

 

“Mmmm,” Yoda grunted, pulling himself onto the sleep-couch beside Plo and Anakin.  

 

Anakin’s wild eyes turned back to his Master.  Plo simply carded his claws through the human’s short hair again, sensing through their bond that the repetitive motion was helping Anakin to calm down more than words would.  Such a tactile creature his Padawan was. 

 

Yoda placed a palm on Anakin’s back, soothing him with the force.  

 

“Obi-Wan!”  Anakin finally burst out, fresh tears falling.  “Obi-Wan’s in trouble.”

 

Plo exchanged a look with Yoda, nodding slightly to indicate the older master should take the lead while he continued comforting the boy.  

 

“Trouble you say?”  

 

Anakin nodded.  “I saw… something.  He was chained to a wall and looked scared.  I’ve never seen Obi-Wan look scared before! And something was in the room with him.”  

 

“Something?”  Yoda prompted gently, hand still on Anakin’s back.  

 

Anakin bit his lower lip, struggling to articulate what he’d seen.  “I think it was a he? And he looked human-ish. But…” 

 

“But?” Plo prompted gently.  Anakin shuddered, resting his head against Plo’s shoulder again.  

 

“It felt Dark,” he declared.  “Like the man that chased Master Qui-Gon and me on Tatooine, but even worse.”  

 

Plo and Yoda exchanged another look, this one startled.  

 

“Worse, you say?”  

 

Anakin nodded pitifully.  “He didn’t say anything, but he has Obi-Wan!”  He lifted his head up. “He has Obi-Wan!” 

 

“In hyperspace, Obi-Wan is,” Yoda said.  “Unable to contact him we are.” 

 

Anakin shook his head.  “Something’s wrong,” he insisted.  

 

“Master Yoda isn’t saying nothing is wrong Padawan,” Plo said.  “Just that we cannot contact Obi-Wan yet. Do you know when he’s due to exit hyperspace?”  He asked his fellow councillor. 

 

Yoda hummed.  “Midday,” he replied. 

 

“But we have to do something!” Anakin burst out.  “We can’t just wait for midday!” 

 

Yoda tapped Anakin on the forehead with a claw.  “Contact Duchess Satine, we will,” Yoda declared.  “And summon the council.” 

 

“Do you think,” Plo asked, worried but wanting to calm his still frantic Padawan.  “That Master Windu will sit by while Obi-Wan could be in danger?” 

Despite himself, Anakin giggled.  “No,” he admitted. 

 

“And,” Yoda said, “sometimes untrue visions are. Pass in time, some dreams do,”  

 

Anakin stared at the ancient master, who accepted the intense scrutiny with good grace. 

 

“What about the ones that don’t pass?”  Anakin finally asked. 

 

Yoda hummed again.  “Don’t?” He asked rhetorically.  “Do something about those we can.”  He smiled. “More sleep you need youngling,” he ordered.  “Contact the council I will.” 

 

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, before snapping it shut at the look on Master Yoda’s face.  

 

“Master Yoda is right young one,” Plo said gently.  “Sleep.” 

 

His Padawan’s eyes slipped shut at the force suggestion, his body falling back against Plo’s chest.  Plo adjusted him to a more comfortable position, before looking over at Yoda. 

 

“That was no dream,” he said quietly.  “I may not be prone to visions, but I do know the difference between a warning from the force and a child’s nightmares.”  

 

“Know that, I do,” Yoda said voice equally quiet.  “And agree with you I do. Call the council I shall.  Get ready for your first mission with young Skywalker, you should.”  

 

**#**

  
  


**_An hour later - just past 04:00_ **

 

Satine’s regal formed flickered into view in the centre of the council chamber after just ringing once.  “Masters,” she said with a small nod. 

 

The council members exchanged a look, all noticing the strained look on her face.  She was dressed despite the early hour, save for a headdress. 

 

“Duchess Satine,” Mace said, taking the lead as he was wont to due. “Have you heard from your husband lately?”

 

Satine pursed her lips.  “No Master Windu,” she replied.  “He is due to comm when his ship drops out of hyperspace at 13:27 today.”  

 

“Sensed anything odd, have you?” Yoda asked, following Mace’s lead and cutting straight to the chase.  While he enjoyed dancing around a subject, he knew now was not the time. 

 

Satine let out a loud breath.  “Perhaps,” she answered finally.  “I assume you have a reason for asking?”  

 

“Padawan Skywalker had a vision on your husband in danger,” Adi Gallia answered with a sympathetic look on her face.  “And while many visions turn out to be false, or to be simply dreams, we did not want to ignore a potential warning.” 

 

Satine’s eyes widened.  “I have felt anxious about him,” she admitted.  “But assumed that is because we have not been separated since Arlan’s birth,” she finished.  

 

Yoda’s ears twitched.  “Anxious, has young Arlan been?”  

 

Satine nodded immediately.  “He’s been antsy and fussy ever since Obi-Wan left, but has become worse over the past several hours. He woke up crying for the first time in months about an hour ago, and would not calm until I wrapped him in one of Obi-Wan’s robes,” she explained.  “We’ve all been assuming his behaviour is because he’s never been separated from Obi-Wan before.” 

 

Depa Billaba exchanged a deeply concerned look with her former Master.  The alpha looked as though he was going to run from the chambers to look for Obi-Wan any moment now.   “Do you know what time Arlan woke up exactly?” She demanded. 

 

“Just past 03:00,” Satine answered promptly.  

 

Plo grimace behind his mask, glad he’d left Anakin in the antechamber with the other council Padawans despite the boy’s protests. Anakin hadn’t stayed asleep long despite his Master’s force suggestion, and Plo had known he couldn’t leave the boy behind while he went to meet with the council.  “That’s the same time Anakin woke up,” he pointed out. 

 

Satine made a small sound.  

 

Saesee Tiin tapped a large finger on the arm of his chair.  “Master Koon,” he said. “You are one of our best pilots, and Padawan Skywalker shows great promise as a pilot as well, does he not?”  

 

Plo nodded. 

 

Coleman Trebor grinned.  “Good thinking Tinn,” he complimented.  

 

Despite the situation, Plo found himself smiling.  “Anakin and I will head out to where Obi-Wan’s ship is due to exit hyperspace.  We can say it is a training missions if asked, as to not panic anyone needlessly,” he explained.  “When his ship appears we can escort him to Coruscant.” 

 

“And if it doesn’t appear we will know immediately,” Master Poof finished, head swaying in approval.  

 

Satine smiled tightly.  “I will be sure to keep my comm on me,” she said.  “Please contact me the moment you have any news.” 

 

Mace nodded to her, his gaze heavy.  “I will contact you personally, Duchess.”  

 

“Thank you, Master Windu,” she replied, gaze equally intense.  

 

Plo stood, bowing to Satine.“ Anakin and I will leave immediately,” he said.  The other council members nodded in approval. 

 

“We will make further plans,” Stass Allie said.  “And keep you apprised of any changes.” 

 

Plo nodded his thanks, before striding from the room.  Already the rest of the council were making plans for every possible outcome with Satine, who was clearly on a warpath.  Plo pitied anyone who got in her way. 

 

“Master?”  Anakin asked, immediately leaving his place by Kit Fisto’s Padawan Nahdar’s side to grasp Plo’s hand tightly in how own.  

 

“We’re going to fly out to where Obi-Wan’s ship is due to drop out of hyperspace,” Plo declared, not breaking stride.  Anakin jogged beside him, clearly not minding the fast pace. 

 

Plo thumbed a command into his comm, arranging to have a pack for both himself and Anakin brought down to the hanger bay.  

 

“Our mission is officially a training flight for you Padawan,” he explained as they entered a high speed lift.  Beside him Anakin was practically vibrating. “We are to meet Obi-Wan’s ship when it drops out of hyperspace and escort it back to Coruscant.”  

 

“We’re really there to see if it’s even coming, aren’t we?”  

 

Plo nodded, stepping out of the lift with Anakin on his heels.  “Exactly,” he said, entering a second lift that would take them down to the hanger bay.  “If the ship doesn’t appear we will comm the council and wait an hour in case of delays. From there the council will have further orders for us.”  

 

He glanced down, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder.  “Stay in the present Anakin,” he said. “I know you are worried and I know you are scared.  Both feelings are valid. But you must be able to look past them in order to help Obi-Wan. If you allow your emotions to rule you, you will not be able to listen clearly to the force.”  

 

Anakin looked down.  “I’m sorry Master,” he said miserably.  

 

Plo squeezed the skinny shoulder.  “You have nothing to apologise for Padawan,” he said gently.  “You are still learning, and this is a situation I would normally not want one so young in.”  

 

Anakin glanced up at him, a small smile on his face.  “Okay Master.” 

 

“Good boy,” Plo praised as the lift stopped.  

 

Anakin darted out first after getting a nod from Plo, heading over to the ship indicated with a nod.  A droid had already dropped off their packs, and one of the technicians was running through the pre-flight checklists for them.  

 

“So, an escort mission,” Erem Luss said, a suspicious look on her face.  “I haven’t got a ship ready this fast since the Yinchorri Uprising. Or this last minute.”  

 

“Officially, an escort mission,” Plo confirmed, handing Anakin their packs.  The boy ran up the ramp, disappearing into the ship. 

 

Erem snorted.  “Officially. Right,” she made a note on her pad.  “She’s all ready to go,” she said. “I’ll make sure everyone’s on standby until you’re back.”  

 

Plo laughed, giving her an amused look.  She was far too used to Jedi shenanigans. 

 

He entered the ship calmly, finding Anakin already strapped into the co-pilot’s seat, mournfully looking at the controls just beyond his reach.  He ruffled Anakin’s hair as he strapping himself in. “You’ll grow soon Ani,” he promised. “With the rate you’re eating at I’m sure a growth spurt is in your future.”  

 

“You think?” Anakin asked, watching as his Master expertly piloted the ship up and out of the hanger bay.  There was no need for hyperspace, not when Obi-Wan’s ship was due to arrive just beyond Coruscant’s airspace.  

 

“I’ve had human padawans before,” the Kel Dor said.  “And help in the creche often. You will grow.” 

 

Anakin cracked a small smile.  “Do you think Obi-Wan’s okay?” 

 

“I trust in the force Anakin,” Plo said after a long pause.  “And the force tells me Obi-Wan still has much to do in the galaxy. I do not know if he is alright, but I do know  _ him _ .  I taught him when he was a initiate and Padawan, and trained with him several times.  He is smart and strong in the force. We must have faith in him.”

 

“Faith in Obi-Wan and trust in the force?” Anakin said in a questioning tone.  

 

“Exactly,” Plo nodded as they reached the rendezvous point.  “We are doing all we can do to help him, and must also have faith that he can help himself if need be.”  

 

“I’ll try, Master,” Anakin whispered, before wincing.  

 

Plo chucked.  “Don’t worry,” he smiled.  “I won’t tell Yoda you said that. Now, let’s review for your physics test while we wait.”  

 

Anakin grimaced, but nodded in agreement.  He was good at physics, but still didn’t like the tests, getting nervous when taking them.  “Yes Master,” he sighed, getting up to fetch his datapad. At least this would help him keep his mind off Obi-Wan.  He glanced at the chrono. 

 

05:39

 

Eight hours to go. 

  
  


_**#** _

  
  


Mace clenched his fists, barely resisting the urge to bounce a leg.  Depa, bless her, was watching him in concern, knowing how hard this was for him.  When he’d first presented as an alpha when he was fourteen there had been two omegas in the order and one alpha.  The alpha had often been assigned on Outer Rim missions, but had made themselves available to him whenever possible, knowing the young teen would have questions.  One of the omegas had died before Mace had gotten to know him. The second omega, an elderly healer named Bara, had taken him under her wing. 

 

His own Master Cyslin Myr had been a beta, and while he’d adored and respected her there were some things she simply could not teach him.   

 

But nothing Bara had said could have ever prepared him for Obi-Wan.  

 

He’d been on a mission with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shortly before the boy’s fourteenth birthday when he had presented.  Qui-Gon, for all he loved the child, had been helpless to comfort him. 

 

Mace himself had barely known what to do.  Alpha’s presented with heightened instincts, growth, and finally a short rut.  Without a nearby omega it was easy to control, and life went on. 

 

It hadn’t been so easy for Obi-Wan.  

 

At thirteen he’d been too young to really understand, and his body hadn’t been ready for the pain a heat could bring.  Mace could still hear his sobs and pleads for it to stop ringing in his ears. He’d stepped in, instinctually soothing the child through his heat as a elder sibling or parent would, thankful beyond belief he’d not felt any attraction at Obi-Wan’s scent.  Qui-Gon had given him a look of sincere gratefulness, being sure to stay close to comfort his Padawan through their strong bond. Obi-Wan had gotten through it, but ever since then he and Mace had become much closer. There was something comforting about being near someone else who’d presented as something other than a beta, and they’d both felt soothed by one another's presence.  Bara had met Obi-Wan and helped him as well, before passing into the Force due to old age. 

 

He was now the only alpha in the Order, and though Obi-Wan had left years ago now, he still considered the omega to be his pack.  Someone to be cherished and protected. Now he was in danger, and Mace couldn’t do anything about it. 

 

He glanced at his chrono.  

 

Two minutes to go.  

 

He ignored Depa’s stare and the tense planning still taking place in the room. If Obi-Wan was in danger, he would be going to get him.  It was as simple as that. Almost nothing could stand between an alpha and their pack. The rest of the council knew that, and had been planning accordingly.  

 

At exactly 13:37 Plo Koon’s form shimmered into existence, and Mace growled low in his throat, unable to fight down his instincts.  

 

Plo looked worried, and Anakin was a furious form at his side.  

 

Yoda made a worried humming noise.  “Nothing?” 

 

Plo shook his head.  “No,” he said shortly.  Anakin clenched his small fists.  “We will wait the allotted hour if the council wishes, but having just received Obi-Wan’s ship specifications, I don’t believe there could have been a mechanical issue.”  

 

Depa swore, and Mace fought the urge to pace.  They had planned for this eventuality after all, as much as none of them wanted it to come to pass.  

 

“There’s another transmission incoming,” Even Piel said sharply.  

 

Satine appeared before them, looking as though she was ready to tear someone's head off.  “Nothing,” she spat. “And though I am not particularly force sensitive, I can always feel him when he’s not in hyperspace.  I feel nothing now.” 

 

“And Arlan?” Adi asked, concern written across her face.  

 

The Duchess grimaced.  “Frantic,” she replied.  “Something isn’t right.” 

 

Plo swore, startling his Padawan.  

 

“As the Duchess of Mandalore I officially ask for help from the Jedi Order,” she declared formally.  “I don’t want the Senate Law Enforcement involved. They will slow things down. They will be informed as is their right, but the Jedi and Mandalore will handle the situation.”  

 

“Agreed,” Mace snapped, knowing he looked as tightly wound as the Duchess.  

 

Ki-Adi Mundi leaned forwards.  “I’ll head for the Senate,” he said.  “I can keep them informed and ensure they don’t try to interfere.”  

 

“I’ll go with you,” Depa said.  Ki-Adi nodded this thanks, knowing it would be a frustrating and tiring job to keep the Senate from interfering in some way. Obi-Wan was a high profile target as a platetry ruler, and the news of his disappearance would not go over well.  

 

“Joining you, Master Windu will be,” Yoda said to Plo Koon, who nodded in acknowledgement.  

 

“I’ll ship out now,” Mace told the other Master.  “From there we can begin to retrace Obi-Wan’s route.”  

 

“We will prepare,” Plo stated, inclined his head.  “See you soon.” 

 

His and Anakin’s hologram’s flickered away, leaving only Satine.  She stared at Mace. “Mandalore will be searching as well,” she informed the council.  “My sister, Bo-Katan, is gathering a team.” 

 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Mace replied, knowing the other alphas very well at this point.  Mandalore was not going to take Obi-Wan disappearance (kidnapping, a harsh voice in his head insisted) well to say the least.  They would be out for blood. 

 

Satine smiled, baring her teeth.  “We will keep you informed,” she said.  

 

“Do the same, we will,” Yoda replied, knowing not to expect more from a worried alpha who’s mate was in danger.  

 

“Thank you,” Satine said.  She and Mace shared one more heavy look before she turned off her end of the communication.  

 

Mace stood the moment her blue form vanished, pausing only to nod at his fellow council members as he strode purposefully from the room. 

 

Depa and Ki-Adi stood as well, watching his departure with calm eyes.  

 

“Good luck,” Agen Kolar said, already studying a star map.  

 

Ki-Adi snorted.  “Thank you,” he said.  “Anyone else want to join us?”  

 

Stass Allie gave him a disbelieving look.  “Not on your life.” 

 

“I will,” Master Piel said in his gravelly, accented voice.  “Half the Senate is terrified of me for some reason,” he smiled, a terrifying expression.  “That should help in keeping them from doing anything foolish.”

 

Depa raised an eyebrow.  “We welcome your company,” she answered truthfully.  

 

The three Masters bowed as one the the rest of the council, leaving for the hanger bay at a much more sedate but no less urgent pace then Mace Windu.  

 

Adi Gallia sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.  Once the Senate found out about the situation it would be utter chaos.  “I know no one wants to think about it,” she sighed, “but we have to spin the the right way.”  

 

Jocasta Nu grimaced.  She’d spent most of the morning pouring over star charts to predict potential paths someone could take if they wanted to intercept Obi-Wan’s ship, and was visibly exhausted. “That we do,” she said tiredly. “The Senate and media will be in an uproar.  If we don’t spin this the right way it will reflect terribly on the Jedi Order.” 

 

“Politics,” Oppo Rancisis spat, looking furious.  

 

Jocasta sent him a wry look.  “Politics,” she agreed. 

 

_**#** _

 

Satine stood with a fussing Arlan in her arms, staring into nothingness.  She felt useless. She wanted nothing more than to be among the searchers, but knew that she would just slow them down. Bo-Katan and her team were trained for this.  She was not. Bo-Katan was due back on planet for a rest and to appear at her side, knowing that the remaining members of the ruling family needed to present a cohesive unit to the galaxy at large.  

 

It was times like these that she really hated being a politician.  

 

“I know darling, I know,” she rumbled under her breath.  Arlan look at her with Obi-Wan’s eyes, silent for a long moment before starting to whine again.  He needed his bearer, not her. He was already so strong in the force, and Satine knew in her bones that he could sense her turmoil, and that of those around them.  

 

She also knew, though did not wish to acknowledge it, that he could sense Obi-Wan’s emotions.  Yes, Obi-Wan always shielded the child from his more negative thoughts, but Arlan always knew. He was so connected with his omega parent.  Even if there had been no other sign, no call from the Jedi Order, no vision from Anakin, Satine would have known something was wrong with her husband because of their son’s behaviour.  

 

The poor child.  

 

He was only fourteen months old, still a babe really.  He didn’t deserve to feel these emotions he couldn't possibly comprehend.  Satine had hardly put him down since he’d began fussing more early that morning.  She assumed Arlan had had some sort of vision, like Anakin had. He’d been nearly inconsolable, only calming when she’d swaddled him (something she hadn’t done in months, not since he was able to roll over in bed) in Obi-Wan’s soft house robes.  He’d calmed down, but there was still something bothering him. 

 

When the council had called she’d had all the confirmation needed. 

 

Bo-Katan had gathered her various contacts and several members of Mandalore’s elite Royal Guard immediately, (even as she was still talking to the Council) beginning the search.  They would find Obi-Wan, one way or another. 

 

“No leads yet,” Bo-Katan spat furiously, entering the communications room in a whirlwind, red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail at the base of her neck.  She was wearing her armour, helmet tucked under her arm. For a change Satine didn’t mind seeing her sister wearing the symbol of Mandalore’s violent past. Instead she relished it.  She had always wondered what would make her give up her pacifist ways. She’d gone through the Civil War sticking to her principals, as well as several assassination attempts. She’d thought nothing could break her.  

 

But this, this could.  She wanted to tear out the throats of those who had dared to hurt her Obi-Wan.  

 

It had been over seven hours since his ship had been due to appear.  They’d found several members of his personal guard, Cabor included, injured in escape pods lightyears away from where they were supposed to be.  None of them had awaken as of yet, but their condition told Satine that Obi-Wan’s ship had not simply experienced a mechanical or technical malfunction.  

 

Someone had taken him.  

 

“Have the Jedi had any luck?” Satine asked under her breath.  Much to her consternation she’d been sequestered away with her advisors, who had urged her to appeal to the Republic.  They’d claimed it would cast her, as well as Mandalore, in a more favourable light. The Jedi had agreed with them, so Satine had resigned herself to the inevitable.  

 

Bo-Katan frowned.  “Some,” she replied.  “The Skywalker kid is able to sense him apparently.”  

 

Satine raised an eyebrow, giving her sister an annoyed look.  

 

“Nothing concrete though,” Bo-Katan added.  She smiled sadly at her nephew, drawing one finger down his soft cheek.  He stopped fussing to stare at her, tears in his large eyes. “We’ll find you  _ buir  _ little one,” she whispered.  “I promise you. We will find him.”  

 

Arlan grabbed at her finger, making an angry noise.  

 

“Are you sure he should be here?” 

 

Satine nodded, burying her face in her beloved child’s white blond hair.  “We need to present a united front,” she explained blankly. “When I speak. Arlan needs to be seen.  Apparently to remind the public,” she spat, “that Obi-Wan is an omega with a young child.” 

 

Bo-Katan made a face.  “I hate politics,” she sighed.  

 

Satine hummed in agreement. 

 

“Do you want me to take him?” 

 

Satine’s arms tightened around her son unconsciously, causing him to make an angry sound.  “Sorry love,” she whispered. “No,” she continued more loudly. “I need to be holding him for the address.  And I want to keep him. He needs me.” 

 

Bo-Katan’s mouth twisted in a sad smile, before an aid whispered something in her ear.  “Nearly time,” she sighed. “The Senate is going to start a special broadcast in a moment.”  

 

Satine nodded in acknowledgement.  Another aid asked if she wanted to sit while she waited for her time to speak, but she ignored them.  

 

The large viewscreen on the wall near to her ornate desk lit up, showing the inside of the Senate Rotunda.  On screen was a pretty young Zeltron with hair a soft shade of pink just barely darker then her skin. Behind her stood Mandalore’s senatore Tvan Atar, as well as three members of the Jedi High Council.  

 

“We have breaking news concerning the kidnapping of the Duke of Mandalore, Obi-Wan Kryze…” the Zeltron started.  

 

Satine tuned her out, knowing she wasn’t saying anything that mattered in the grand scheme of things.  The Senate had been a mess with the news of Obi-Wan’s disappearance. Several other high profile planets were on alert, fearful of a kidnapping attempt on their rulers as well. Alderaan, Naboo, Chandrila, Hosnian Prime, Aleen, and several other Republic planets had offered their aid.  Satine, as well as the Jedi, had thanked them but simply asked they listen for information. The Jedi were searching, she’d said, and the Jedi would find him. 

 

She’d neglected to mention to troop of elite Mandalorian warriors also searching for him.  

 

All the news and had talked about since the information broke was how beloved Obi-Wan was, the good he’d done for Mandalore, his position as a former member of the Jedi Order, how he’d freed a young slave boy, his young son just recently weaned… it went on and on.  The news lapped it up. 

 

At least the support for both Mandalore and the Jedi Order were high, though no one could predict if it would remain that way.  

 

Thus, a press conference.  

 

Satine’s personal assistant Alli Marh gestured to her, and Satine straightened her spine on instinct.  She’d fought for Mandalore and then for her husband. She would fight equally hard to find him and bring him home safe.  

 

“We’re live in, five… four… three…” she trailed off, using her fingers to denote the last two seconds before the room was broadcast live to the Republic newsfeeds.  

 

“Joining us now is Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, along with her son his Royal Highness Arlan Kyze, sister Bo-Katan Kryze, and members of the Mandalorian Court,” the senate reported was now saying.  On the vidscreen Satine could see her office reflected back at them, and she resisted the urge to grimace. She looked severe enough, but that would be written off as worry. No need to look even worse. 

 

She’d given many speeches before.  This was just one more in a long line.  

 

She could do this.  

 

**_#_ **

  
  


Depa watched from her position beside Ki-Adi and Evan, thankful Master Mundi had offered to do the speaking if asked to do so.  She’d been active in the political realm since her Padawan days (having a council member as a Master made that inevitable), but that didn’t mean she enjoyed being on camera projected to millions of sentients.  

 

_ She’s handling herself well,  _ came Evan’s mental voice, broadcast to both her and Even Piell.  

 

_ She is,  _ Ki-Adi thought back with approval.   _ Did you suggest that she hold Arlan Depa?  _

 

_ Yes, _ she thought.   _ Satine saw the benefit to it as well.  She’d smart, that one.  _

 

_ She looks furious,  _ Even continued. _  But also desperate.  You can see it in her eyes.  And that poor child…  _

 

_ They’ll eat this up, _ Ki-Adi thought wryly, even as he scanned the members of Satine’s council.  His eyes stopped on the towering form of Pre Vizsla. Depa, seeing his eyes stop, followed his gaze.  

 

The tall alpha was standing off to the side, hidden partially in the shadows the late evening sun cast into the room.  He was the only member of the court that didn’t seem concerned, at least until one of the camera’s obviously planned to him and he took on a deeply worried expression.  His eyes though, they remained emotionless. 

 

_ He’s got something to do with all of this, _ Even Piell thought firmly.   _ Or I’ll eat my lightsaber.  _

 

_ Go contact Mace and Plo, _ Ki-Adi ordered.   _ They’ll need to know we have a lead.   _

 

_ They might already know,  _ Depa cut in, watching as the Duchess’ sister Bo-Katan cast the minister an appraising look.  

 

Piell snorted under his breath, inaudible to the holorecorders and other sentients in the room.   _ I knew there was a reason I liked her.  _

 

_ That and she threatens people with violence on a regular basis.  _ Depa thought wryly. 

 

_ Hush, both of you, _ Mundi cut in, his mental voice amused.   _ Even, go.  Contact the others, and perhaps Bo-Katan if possible.  Update us as soon as you can.  _

 

Even didn’t reply, but exited the room on silent feet.  Only one of the cameramen noticed him leave but wisely made no comment. He, like anyone watching would do, simply assumed the Lannick Jedi had Council business to attend to.  

 

Depa switched her attention back to the massive vidscreen in the middle of the room. Arlan was now resting his head against Satine’s shoulder, whimpering softly.  Satine was rubbing on hand over the baby’s back, her image not softened in the slightest by holding him. This was not an mother cuddling her kit, this was a livid alpha ready to salt the earth to find her omega.  Depa almost pitied whoever had taken Obi-Wan. Between Satine and her sister, as well as Mace and even Skywalker, whoever it was would be hunted until the end of their days. 

 

“Thank you, so much, for taking the time to address the Republic Your Grace.  I will not take up any more of your time, as I know you have much more pressing matters to attend to, to say the least.”  

 

Satine inclined her head, eyes closing briefly as she visibly fought back tears.  Depa knew the tears were as much from anger as worry, but most of the Republic would only see a grieving wife holding her crying son. “Of course,” she replied.  “I thank you for taking the time to speak with me. It is my dearest hope that someone out there knows information that can help bring Obi-Wan home to us.” 

 

With that the screen showing Satine and her court vanished, and Depa knew it was only the reporter (with them and Mandalore’s senator) visible to people watching.  

 

“Again,” the reporter was saying.  “We urge you to contact the helpline displayed at the bottom of your screen if you have any information that can help.  This was a Special Report on the situation involving the presumed kidnapping of the Duke of Mandalore, Obi-Wan Kenobi. We will be monitoring the situation and updating you, the Republic, as more information is discovered.  Thank you for watching. And now, back to your regularly scheduled news broadcast.” 

 

The Zeltron smiled tersely at the cameras trained on her until her production manager gave the okay.  It was only then that she allowed the look to fall from her face, replaced by a look of extreme concern.  “Oh that poor baby!” She said in a rush. “And the Duchess! Oh, I can’t imagine what they must be going through!  Do you have any leads, Master Jedi?” 

 

_ This one’s yours, _ Ki-Adi thought at Depa.  She gave him a mental swat, but answered Oona Ginn nonetheless.  

 

“We have several paths we are following,” Depa said.  “Unfortunately, none concrete as of yet.” 

 

Oona gave her a watery smile.  “Of course, it has after all only been several hours since he was discovered to be missing after all.  I just can’t help but think of the poor boy.” 

 

“The Duke is a friend to the Order,” Depa said, ignoring the look Ki-Adi threw her.  Zeltron’s were all empathetic to a certain extent, and Oona would be able to sense that Depa was telling the truth, and that she wanted nothing more then to help Obi-Wan.  Though Zeltrons were often gullible, Depa would bet her lightsaber that Oona was not. One did not become a reporter on the Senate payroll by being gullible. “We will find him.”  

 

Oona looked at her for a long moment, dark eyes studying Depa intently.  “I have faith that you will, Master Billaba,” she finally said. “If I were you, I’d start with that creep Vizsla.”

 

Depa raised an eyebrow.  This reporter was far smarter then she looked.  “Would you?” She asked with a slight smile. Behind her she could sense Ki-Adi roll his eyes, annoyed at her flirting.  He was one to talk - he was constantly talking about his wives and daughters. 

 

Oona stared right back, meeting the Jedi Master’s gaze fearlessly.  “I see a lot of characters at the Senate,” she said softly. “But he has one of the coldest gazes I’ve ever seen.  Either he knows something, or he wants to take advantage of the situation. But,” she trailed off, an playful smile on her face.  “I’m sure you already knew that. 

 

Depa was impressed.  If this woman had been born force sensitive she would have made one hell of a Jedi.  She allowed her smile to widen to something more sincere. “We thank you for your time, and for your advice Miss Ginn,” she said.  

 

“Of course,” the reporter said with a small smile.  

 

Depa finally turned to leave, allowing Mundi and Atar to proceed her.  At the last second she turned back to stare at Oona, inspecting her with the Force.  The woman shone brightly, with a kind soul and brave heart. She would help them if she were able.  

 

“Here,” Depa said, scribbling something on a scrap of flimsy.  “These are my personal comm codes. Please let me know if you have any information.”  

 

Oona blinked, having barely caught the sheet.  “I… I will. Thank you Master Jedi.” 

 

“Or, just call me,” Depa said with a grin.  She darted out before seeing Oona’s response, a small smirk on her face.  

 

“Oh don’t say it,” she snapped when she saw the look her fellow councilor was giving her. Mandalore's senator just looked bemused underneath his intense worry.  

 

Ki-Adi sighed.  “I was not going to, Master Billaba,” he said.  “But come. Evan is waiting for us. You can discuss your girlfriend with someone else later. I hear enough gossip from my wives and daughters.  I do not need it from you as well.”

 

“Your loss,” Depa smiled.  In front of them Atar stifled a laugh, apparently unsure what to think of the Jedi. “I will just discuss Oona with Obi-Wan once we find him.”

 

Ki-Adi finally allowed a softer look to cross his face.  “And find him we will.” 

  
  


**_#_ **

  
  


**_11/07/31 BBY_ **

**_Early in the morning, 01:02_ **

**_Tipoca City, Kamino_ **

 

Jango Fett flicked a match, using it to light a tabac stick as he went through his preflight checklist.  He could get a droid to do this, but he found it relaxing. And it got him away from the Kaminoans. He liked them for the most part, especially Taun We, but he’d take as much time away from them as he could get.  

 

Some part of him felt bad leaving his clones under their care, but hey, that’s what he was being paid for.  

 

At least Boba had a nanny droid that he’d programmed himself.  And for all he found the Kaminoans strange he knew Boba would be safe with them.  They may not understand why he’d wanted an unaltered clone, but they would sill protect him if need be.  

 

He sent a text based message to his contact on Mandalore, letting her know he was leaving Kamino on a lead.  She’d be furious at him, but he didn’t care. He and Bo-Katan went way back, and he could deal with her temper.  If he couldn’t, it was clearly time for him to retire. 

 

He wasn’t used to finding people in order to rescue them, but he could adapt.  He’d found and captured (or killed) more people than he cared to count. Duke Kryze was a tricky case, but he would still be successful.  One did not become the more feared bounty hunter in the galaxy by failing. 

 

He (as well as anyone with eyes, honestly, the man had no subtlety) had noticed Pre Vizsla’s expression during the press conference earlier in the day.  He knew Bo-Katan had her people trailing him, but the other alpha was slippery. He knew better then to do anything to directly incriminate himself, at least not at this stage.  But Jango knew in his bones Vizsla had something to do with the Duke’s disappearance. 

 

He’d never met this Obi-Wan Kryze, but he’d heard good things about him everywhere.  Everyone from prissy diplomats to his fellow bounty hunters had nothing but praise for the former Jedi Padawan.  Jango himself was going to be saving judgement for when he’d actually met the kid, but he was hopeful for some reason he couldn’t name.  Maybe it was that the Duke was an omega who was willing to get his hands dirty and would actually fight for what he thought was right. Maybe it was because he had Bo-Katan’s approval.  Maybe it was just his goddamn alpha instincts coming to play. Whatever the reason, his gut told him Obi-Wan Kryze needed to be saved. 

 

Jango had never failed to get his bounty.  He refused to start now. 

 

The comlink on Slave I beeped, showing an incoming message.  That would be Bo-Katan, right on time as usual. 

 

“Hello Bo,” he said cheerfully.  “How are you this fine day?” 

 

“Cut the oisk Fett,” she growled. “What do you mean you found a lead?”  

 

Jango lost the teasing tone, hearing the strain in Bo-Katan’s voice.  He’d worked a mission involving an omega once before, and had learned from that not to push.  It made him glad he didn’t actually know any omegas, not when he’d seen how they made any alphas around them act the fool.  “I managed to decipher an odd message on Vizsla’s comm, and traced it to an area in Wild Space. It won’t take me long to get there, not from where I am.  I’ll check it out and let you know.” 

 

Bo-Katan frowned, expression visible even on the tiny hologram projected from his ship’s comm.  “Does it look promising?” 

 

Jango finished piloting his girl into position, readying himself and it for the hyperspace jump.  “I wouldn’t be checking it out if it didn’t,” he replied. 

 

Bo-Katan snorted.  “Point,” she conceded. “I’ll let you get to it then,.  Good hunting.”

 

“Thanks,” he answered wryly.  “Fett out.” 

 

He shut off the comm with relief, finishing all his final checks, and made the leap into hyperspace. 

 

Several hours and several more hyperspace hops later her commed Bo-Katan back, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Yes?” 

 

“You said some Jedi were trailing the Duke?”  He demanded. 

 

“What?  Oh, yes.  Have you found something?”  Bo-Katan asked, sounding uncharacteristically out of sorts.  

 

“Get me their codes.”  

 

“You’ve found something big, haven’t you,” she stated rather then asked.  

 

Jango grimaced.  “I think so,” he answered.  He swallowed down his pride.  “Send me their comm info,” he repeated.  “I’m going to need all the back up I can get if you want me to get Obi-Wan out alive.”  

 

He shut off the comm, staring out at the foliage on the small forest covered planet he’d landed on.  The Duke was here, that was a certainly. But so was the Zabrek who’d killed a Jedi Master on Naboo, as well as a terrifying being who’d glided into the building nearly an hour ago. Jango hated the Jedi, and had good reason to.  But even he knew the Sith were Jedi business, and if this were any other situation he would have had Bo-Katan replay the information to the Jedi before turning tail. He knew his history, and he knew when he was in over his head.  

 

But there was something about this omega that froze Jango where he was.  He just couldn’t bring himself to leave. 

 

“Oh fierfek,” he viciously swore, double checking his weapons with efficient movements.  He knew himself. There was no way he would be able to wait for backup. He’d comm the Jedi once he had their codes, then go in himself.  Hopefully the Jedi weren’t too far from his position. 

 

“About time…” he whispered.  His comm had lit up, displaying a new number.  He punched it in, finishing his last checks as it called out.  

 

“What,” a voice growled.  

 

Despite the situation, Jango fought back a hysterical laugh.  Of course it would be Windu…

 

“That’s a hell of a way to answer your comm,” he couldn’t resist teasing.  

 

Windu’s face soured.  “Bo-Katan has bad taste him hired help,” he spat.  

 

“Most definitely,” Jango agreed with a smirk.  “I have a lock on the Duke’s location.” 

Windu looked as though he had been punched in the gut at the news, and Jango could hear two distinct voices in the background asking questions.  

 

“Where?”  Windu finally demanded.  

 

Jango rattled off his coordinates, before letting out a resigned sigh.  “Get here fast,” 

 

Windu gave him a hard stare.  “You’re asking the Jedi for help?”  

 

“I know when I’m in over my head, and the Sith fall under your jurisdiction, not mine.  I don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with Sith.”

 

Windu swore vehemently, and Jango could hear the sound of something shattering in the background.  That would be, he assumed, the Padawan. 

 

“You are certain?”  

 

“Certain enough to call  _ you _ and ask for help.” 

 

Mace Windu inclined his head in acknowledgement, understanding the layers in Fett’s statement.  

 

“I’m heading in for some reconnaissance.  What’s your ETA?” 

 

The tall Jedi looked to someone outside Jango’s small field of vision, before turning back to the comm system.  “Approximately an hours,” he said, not sounding surprised at how close they were. “Can you hold out until then?”  

 

Jango snorted.  “Unless the Duke is in immediate danger this is just recon.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Jango smirked.  “No good luck?” He taunted.

 

Windu simply stared at him with hard eyes, not bothering to reply.  

 

Jango’s smirk widened.  “See you soon, Slave I out.”  

 

He shut off the feed, still feeling annoyed that he’d had to ask the Jedi for help, before gathering his supplies and slinking off into the darkness. 

  
  


_**#** _

 

**_11/07/31 BBY,_ **

**_Time unknown_ **

**_Wild Space_ **

 

Obi-Wan fruitlessly tugged on his bonds again, knowing that it was hopeless.  Some sort of force inhibitor had been fastened around his neck along with the cuffs chaining him to the duracrete wall.  There was no escaping, at least not without help or tools he did not have. He doubted he would be getting help anytime soon.  He swore internally, annoyed and angry at the situation he’d found himself in. Annoyed because he’d thought he’d left this life behind when he’d left the Jedi Order to marry Satine, and angry because he let himself get captured in the first place.  

 

He hadn’t felt this stupid in a long time.  

 

He was sure, at least, that he’d managed to get Cabor and the rest of his people into escape ponds through copious use of force manipulation.  Cabor had nearly broken free and would doubtless be furious with him, but the older man had already been injured. Obi-Wan did not want his death on his conscious, not when he could do something to save him.  He was still far too much a Jedi to allow someone to die on his watch. Hopefully Cabor would survive his injuries and be around to scold him himself. Obi-Wan would gladly take the lecture if it meant his friend was alive.  

 

There was a sound from outside his cell, and Obi-Wan straightened his spine, focusing all his attention on the door.  There was little he would be able to do to defend himself, but he refused to let his captor see any fear. He glared for good measure, showing all his anger at the situation. 

 

Well, no one could say his time as Duke of Mandalore hadn’t changed his philosophy on emotion and anger.  

 

Bo-Katan would be so proud.  

 

A tall figure entered the room on silent feet, dark cloak keeping his form covered and casting his face into shadow.  Obi-Wan fought the urge to gag, able to feel the Darkness saturating the air around the figure even while collared. 

 

“Duke Kryze,” a male voice said, tone full of glee.  “I am ever so pleased to see you.” 

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  “I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” he said loftily, drawing from all his court and diplomatic experience. 

 

The Sith (for Obi-Wan was sure this was the Sith Master) chuckled, noise full of dark amusement.  “I had heard you had quite a tongue on you,” he finally said, coming closer to Obi-Wan’s side. With a great deal of effort Obi-Wan didn’t recoil away, keeping his eyes trained on the dark hood, hoping to make out some details from the Sith’s face.  

 

“My name is Darth Sidious,” the Sith finally said, apparently satisfied with his study of Obi-Wan’s features.  “And I have a proposition for you, my darling Duke.” 

 

Obi-Wan grimaced at the pet name, his stoic mask slipping.

 

Sidious laughed again, a startling bright sound in the dank cell, especially coming from a Sith.  He reached out a pale humanoid hand to touch Obi-Wan’s cheek, which was beginning to grow scruffy from his time in captivity.  The hand cupped his face, thumb gently stroking his bottom lip. 

 

Obi-Wan ignored it, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He’d been lucky, overall, as an omega. When he’d first presented he’d been a part of the Jedi Order and no Jedi, alpha or beta, would have ever considered hurting him.  They’d all placed him under their protection, and even when there were those who seemed interested in him, they had kept them from approaching. When he’d left the Order he’d immediately began courting Satine, and was thus off limits to the many alpha’s on Mandalore. He felt comfortable in his ability to fend off unwanted attention, but as of yet had not experienced it.  Too many people were either nervous around him as a former Jedi Padawan and Duke of Mandalore to even attempt to try anything, even if they were brave enough to face the ire of both Satine and Cabor. 

 

This was new and terrifying territory for him.  

 

The Sith continued petting Obi-Wan’s face, his other hand now cupping the back of his head.  “You, my dear, are truly a wonderful specimen,” he continued. “Beautiful, strong, powerful in the force, proven fertile…”  he laughed again, the sound dark and lustful. Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek hard, pushing down his terror. 

 

“What a wonderful consort you must make for your Duchess,”  Sidious mused, moving his hand from the back of Obi-Wan’s head to cup chest, still slightly swollen from weaning Arlan.  He squeezed, before shifting his hand to Obi-Wan’s hip. “Truly outstanding,” he whispered, damp breath hitting Obi-Wan’s face and his alpha pheromones filled the room.  He ground his heavy erection into Obi-Wan’s stomach, clearly enjoying the situation, and forcefully grabbed his ass. His long fingers pushing roughly against his entrance through his leggings while his other hand groped more at his chest, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

 

“I wonder,” the Sith said.  “Would these leak for me if I squeeze hard enough?  Or prehaps if I suckled you myself. Your babe is still young, I’m sure it would not take much for you to leak milk again, proving your fertility even more.”  The hand on his ass probed deeper, slipping under his leggings. Two fingers pressed just into him, talon like nails scratching on sensitive skin. “And so tight still!  You’ve been married for years, and given birth. Yet you still feel like a virgin.” He laughed again, sounding gleefully pleased. “You are truly beyond amazing. A prize for whoever possess you.”  

 

Obi-Wan fought the urge to vomit, wanting nothing more then for Satine to burst through the door.  

 

Abruptly, the Sith let him go, taking a step back.  Obi-Wan stayed tense, watching the tall figure warily.  

 

“But now is not the time for that,” Sidious said, sounding both amused and regretful.  “I do, however, have a proposition for you my dear.” 

 

Obi-Wan swallowed.  “What makes you think,” he said once he was sure he could speak without his voice shaking.  “That I want to hear it?” 

 

A derisive snort.  “I don’t,” Sidious replied simply.  “But hear it you will.” 

 

Despite himself, Obi-Wan wanted to roll his eyes.  Force save him from overconfident alphas. 

 

“You, Duke Kryze, are a rare creature,” he started, clasping his hands behind his back.  “I have met my share of omegas, but none of them shine like you do. You are a supernova.  And, in time, you will be mine,” he stated simply. 

 

Obi-Wan felt a chill crawl up his spine.  The Sith wasn’t posturing or ordering. He was stating what he clearly though to be inevitable.  He seemed completely sane, and utterly confident in his declaration. 

 

“I know,” the Sith said, a sympathetic note in his voice, “that you will not agree to that now, but in time omega you will be mine.  You shall be by my side as my consort, bearing my children to continue our line. Arlan, or course, will be safe,” he promised. “I would never think of separating you from your son. He will make a wonderful Sith.”

 

Obi-Wan blinked, bemused.  “You’ve already separated us,” he pointed out, keeping his voice calm, as though they were discussing the weather and not his apparent possession by the dark force in front of him.  

 

“Temporarily, to be sure,” Sidious drawled.  “I will reunite you with you pup soon enough.”  

 

Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared at the threat to his child, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.  

 

Suddenly the Sith was at his side again, lips nearly on his.  No details of his face were visible save for his glowing golden eyes, shot through with a sickly red.  

 

“There’s that fire!” He spat gleefully, claw like nails digging into Obi-Wan’s hips, tearing cloth and breaking skin.  This wasn’t the calculated lustful touch from before, but one of malevolent glee, and Obi-Wan felt tears spring to his eyes.  

 

“I wonder,” he continued, still pawing at Obi-Wan’s body roughly, “do you even know your full potential? I’ve seen your records from the Temple, there is such strength in you!” 

 

Obi-Wan spat in the sith’s face, blood from his bitten cheek mixing with the saliva.  

 

Sidious just laughed, tilting his face up so Obi-Wan could see his tongue dark out to lick his blood covered lips before stepping back.  “I must leave you now,” he said, sounding truly regretfully. “A shame, as I’ve so enjoyed our brief time together.” 

 

He stepped close to Obi-Wan again, hands going around his throat, a gently pressure against the inhibitor collar.  

 

“I have a test for you,” he said, “one that I’m sure will be far to easy for you.”  He fiddled with the back of the collar. “And a gift.” 

 

Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows, glaring defiantly at the evil figure resting against him.  “I hardly want anything from you,” he sneered. 

 

Sidious huffed out a laugh, leaning in to press his lips to Obi-Wan’s chastly.  “We’ll see,” he said when he pulled back. He undid the collar, catching Obi-Wan easily when the omega sagged in his bonds, panting as the force rushed back to him.  He lowered Obi-Wan to the ground with deceptive gentleness, stroking his face once he was settled. “I have other duties to attend to, but my apprentice Darth Maul will be taking my place soon enough,” he explained, straightening from his crouch to tower over Obi-Wan’s shuddering body.  “He is but a beta, but is rather jealous of my preoccupation with you. After all, once we have children, I’ll hardly need him as an apprentice. Even Arlan, or your darling Skywalker, would make a better apprentice then Maul. He wants you dead my darling, and I would be a cruel Master if I didn’t at least let him make the attempt.”  

 

Obi-Wan glared, pushing himself from his position lying on his side to sit with his back to the wall.  The Darkness in the room was dizzying now that the collar was off, and he could feel his body beginning to succumb to shock.  

 

Sidious turned, palming open the door.  “I’m sure you won’t disappoint me pet,” he smirked, before finally leaving the cell.  

 

Obi-Wan sat still for several long moments, using the force to calm his pounding heart, before looking at his bound hands.  

 

Well, at least he could get out of the damn chains now.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Trigger - Palpatine is an evil creep who molests a captured Obi-Wan. No non-con, but definitly sith creepiness and assault. 
> 
> I was kind of nervous to post this chapter, and just kinda kept writing it. I tapped out at 40ish pages lol. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!! I live for reading your comments - they literally make my day.


	6. Chapter Five

**_Several hours later_ **

**_Coruscant, Jedi Temple_ **

 

_ “This is Oona Ginn, live from the steps of the Jedi Temple.  We have received an update on the situation with Duke Obi-Wan Kryze, one that has apparently sent the Jedi into action, sending out more teams.  My source inside the temple informs me that several Masters, as well as two members of the Jedi High Council were dispatched from the Temple just past 04:00 hours.  We do not know their destination, but my source indicated that they are headed into Wild Space... “  _

 

Depa flipped out of the newsfeed, scrubbing a hand over her face.  It was all anyone was talking about - the kidnapping of the Duke of Mandalore.  Thus far the public opinion of the Jedi was strong, the few in the senate (most strongly, the Senator for Naboo) were displeased about the amount of sway the Jedi held in the investigation, but most of the senate seemed to think the Jedi were doing better than Judicial would.  

 

Oona Ginn was proving useful to the search.  When Depa had “leaked” the information, allowing the Zeltron to jump on the story first, she’d known the other woman would be too grateful for the scoop to do anything but report what Depa and the rest of the council wanted.  The public would inevitably find out they’d sent additional teams into Wild Space in the early hours of the morning - too many people were focused on the search for Obi-Wan for them not to notice. The situation could easily be turned against them, and as much as Depa hated it, they had to be concerned about their standing in the public’s eyes.  Her master was normally one of the Councillors who worked with the Senate, but she knew better then to ask him for help, not with Obi-Wan in danger. Even the media seemed to understand not attempt to contact her old Master. 

 

She’d first met Obi-Wan Kenobi properly soon after he’d presented.  She’d been a senior Padawan at the time, and had been off on her own assignment on some mid-rim planet.  When she’d returned it had been to find the young boy in the quarters she shared with her Master, deep in meditation.  He’d been radiated peace for the most part, along with a small amount of anxiety and something else she could not name, sitting nearly in Mace’s lap. 

 

It had been her master that had shocked her.  His emotions had been volatile to say the least.  She was a beta, like most of the population, but had still been able to smell his pheromones.  Obi-Wan had become a regular guest in their quarters after that, and Depa had grown close to the youngling.  Even then he’d had a wry wit, and refused to let his designation define him. Eventually Mace had relaxed, but the two had remained extremely close.  She’d overheard Yoda grip about their attachment to one another several times before Mace had set the old Master straight. There were just some things that beta’s could not understand.  

 

She’d been disappointed when Obi-Wan had left the Order, as she counted him as one of her closest friends (he was something of an annoying younger brother at that point) but also understood.  The force had sent him on a different path. 

 

It had also been amusing to watch Mace when he’d realised Obi-Wan was being courted.  His rants about Satine had been amusing to say the least, even more so once he had seen how perfect she was for Obi-Wan.  

 

She shook herself, annoyed that she’d fallen into melancholy.  They would find Obi-Wan. It was only a matter of time. The bounty hunter Bo-Katan had hired (and how Depa wished she’d seen Mace’s face when he found out it was Jango Fett of all people!) had likely found where Obi-Wan was being held, and Depa knew deep in her gut that the Sith would not kill Obi-Wan.  She didn’t want to contemplate what the Sith wanted with her friend, but instead focused on knowing in her bones that he would be found alive. 

 

He had to be.  

 

**_#_ **

  
  
  


Satine looked up from the star chart in front of her, ignoring her guards exclamations of alarm. Only two people would dare to enter without knocking, and she knew it was not her husband.   

 

“Have you found anything?” She demanded of her younger sister.  Bo-Katan rested her hands on her knees, panting for breath. 

 

“Fett’s got something,” she relayed.  “He comm-ed me, said he was going in for recon.”

 

Satine closed her eyes, fighting back tears of relief.  Obi-Wan hadn’t been found, not yet. There would be plenty of time for tears when she had her husband safely in her arms again.

 

The guards around her made expressions of surprise, some of them muttering prayers under their breath.  They were all attached to their Duke, much more so than they were loyal to her. 

 

“Where?” Satine demanded.  

 

“Out in Wild Space.” Bo-Katan paused.  “Satine…” 

 

Satine felt her heart drop at her sister’s tone.  The last time she’d heard it was when their parents had been murdered.  “What is it?” she whispered, dreading the answer. 

 

“Fett… he’s sure that that the Sith are behind Obi-Wan’s kidnapping,” her sister explained.  “He asked the Jedi for help.” 

 

Satine felt her stomach drop.  She knew her history well, probably better then some Jedi even.  If Obi-Wan had been captured by the Sith… “How far out are the Jedi?” she demanded hoarsely.  

 

Bo-Katan made a face.  “Still several hours,” she said.  “But they’ll take the threat of the Sith seriously.”

 

Satine nodded in agreement.  She was sure she’d be receiving a comm at any moment from the council.  “There’s more,” she stated, watching her sister’s expression. Bo-Katan naturally had a severe face, but was looking downright livid.  

 

“My people following Vizsla,” she started, walking further into the room to place something on the large table.  “They found something.” 

 

Satine stared at the comm on the table, face hard.  “Play it.” 

 

_ “The Duke will be passing through the Corellian Run on his way to Coruscant between 03/09 and 03/12,”  _ came Vizsla’s oily voice.   _ “He will be travelling with several guards.”   _

 

_ “They will not be a problem,” _ said a computer modulated voice.  It was impossible to tell whether or not it was male of female, though hopefully the tech’s would have some luck with it.

 

_ “And what of the Duchess?”   _ Vizsla demanded after a moment’s silence.  

 

The other voice laughed, high pitched and cruel.  _  “She matters not to me,”  _ they said.   _ “With her husband gone she will be easy for you to eliminate.”  _ “

 

Satine’s eyes narrowed, furious.  She’d suspected Vizsla of course, but had not expected him (or any Mandalorian, no matter how much of an extremist) to side with the Sith.  

 

_ “And my reward?”   _

 

_ “Once I have the Duke in my grasp you will receive it,” t _ he voice promised.   _ “Worry not, Vizsla.  You will get your reward.”   _

 

“That’s the last of it,” Bo-Katan said, ignoring the rising fury in the room.  Several guards were alpha’s, and their beta companions were eyeing them in concern despite their own anger.  

 

Satine kept her head down, fighting back her own fury.  “That’s enough to arrest him, I would say,” she drawled.  

 

Her sister snorted.  “That’s an understatement.  Should we release the recording?”  

 

Satine considered the question.  “Get that,” she nodded towards the small comm, “to the Jedi.  Make a copy and release it, but I want that to be inspected by Jedi investigators. Then release the copy to the galaxy in an official broadcast.”  

 

Bo-Katan nodded.  “Permission to find Vizsla?”  

 

“Granted.  But don’t kill him.”  

 

Her sister gave her a displeased look.  “He deserves death for what he’s done.” 

 

Satine finally looked up, angry tears in her eyes.  “I am not saying he does not deserve death,” she said softly, drawing surprised looks from her guards, who were well used to her pacifist ways.  “But he needs a trial. I want the galaxy to know what he has done.” 

 

Bo-Katan regarded her for a long moment.  “Understood,” she finally whispered, bowing low.  

 

Before she could leave, Satine asked one more question.  “How did you get the recording?” 

 

Bo-Katan looked puzzled.  “In a safe box in Vizsla's apartments,” she answered.  

 

“Does that not seem uncharacteristic of him?”  

 

The redhead paused, brow furrowed as she considered the question.  “You think that someone’s setting him up?” 

 

Satine smiled, though there was no humour in the expression.  “I think he’d in too deep with the Sith. Find him before the Sith Lord does, or we won’t find him at all.”  

 

Bo-Katan nodded, expression hard and closed off.  

 

“Good hunting, sister,” Satine whispered, watching as the younger woman left the room.  

 

By the gods, she wanted her husband back.  

 

“Will any of the old houses support Vizsla?” she asked, directing the question to her head guard, who had her ear to the ground on all political issues.  

 

Kania Erzu considered the question, head tilted to the side.  “A very small minority of the old houses will support his goals,” she started slowly.  “But I doubt any of them will support his turning to the Sith. It will lessen his standing in their eyes.”  

 

Satine nodded slowly.  There were still several houses who supported the old ways, and some of them despised the new system of government and its so-called weak ways.  Overall it was a small group, but even a small group could make a difference. 

 

“Your Grace, if I may?”  

 

“Of course,” Satine said, looking up curiously at one of the newer guards, a slight young woman from one of the houses that tended to support the old ways.  Satine knew the woman had faced a great deal of suspicion from her fellow guards before Obi-Wan had announced his approval. They trusted his ability in the force to spot deceit.  

 

“There are still some who will support Vizsla,” she started, “even with this abhorrent act.  However, they could be swayed away from supporting him by the Duke. If he speaks out against the Sith and Vizsla's actions as an omega and as a warrior, they will listen more to him than to you or any of the other houses.”  

 

Satine raised both eyebrows.  She’d known many of the old houses tended to support Obi-Wan more than her, but had not fully grasped how much.  

 

The small woman smiled gently.  “The people love him,” she reminded Satine.  “They will salt the earth to keep him safe. Once they realise that Vizsla betrayed him to the Sith?  Most of them will be brought to the new ways.” 

 

Kania quirked a small smile, the first one since Obi-Wan had been taken.  “Marrying him was the best decision you ever made, your Grace.” 

 

Satine closed her eyes, feeling her husband’s absence like a knife to her ribs.  It hurt being away from him, having their force bond cut off for the first time in nearly a decade.  “I know.” 

  
  


**_#_ **

  
  


Obi-Wan shook his hand, fingertips still stinging. He’d managed to disable the cameras without electrocuting himself too badly, though the tips of his fingers were blistered with burns.  Not that that mattered. What mattered was getting out. He took a deep breath, and wrapped the force around himself like a cloak. He could feel himself start to sweat with exertion, and swore to himself that if (when) he got out of here he would practise the more esoteric uses of the force more often.  He should not be sweating after less than a minute of hiding within the force like some crecheling. 

 

He cautiously peeked around a corner, both relieved and suspicious when he saw no signs of life.  There should be someone there, even if it were just a paid guard. 

 

This place was far to erie. He felt terrible for whatever Jedi would inevitably end up investigating it once he escaped.  And he would escape. 

 

He turned down another corridor, one that led deeper into the complex, but one that the force prompted him to follow.  The force had yet to steer him wrong. He kept his senses stretched outwards, feeling nervousness mixed with relief when he sensed a sentient around a corner that did not feel hostile. 

 

He allowed his force cloak to drop, focusing it instead on his hands, strengthening the bones and tendons.  He didn’t have a weapon, so they would have to do if this person was seeking to harm him. 

 

He turned the corner, nearly colliding with scuffed  _ Beskar’gam _ .  The man didn’t have his helmet on, and Obi-Wan nearly laughed when he realised just who it was. 

 

He and Jango Fett stared at each other, both blinking in shock for a long moment.  Fett was one of the last people Obi-Wan had expected to see. 

 

“Huh,” Fett finally said, eying Obi-Wan up and down.  “Thought you were in a cell.” 

 

Obi-Wan shrugged nonchalantly despite the situation.  “I got out.”

 

Jango nodded in approval.  “We need to get out of here,” he said, gently nudging the bedraggled looking omega along the corridor.  “There’s an extremely creepy looking Zabrak who’s on his way to your cell. I don’t imagine he’ll react well when he realises you’re not there.” 

 

Obi-Wan’s mouth twisted in annoyance.  “I’d really rather not have to duel a Sith to get out of here,” he gripped.  

 

Jango snorted.  “Understandable. Here,” he said, passing Obi-Wan a long knife.  

 

Obi-Wan took it gratefully, noticing it was one of his own force enhanced blades.  “How did you get this?” 

 

“Bo-Katan hired me,” the bounty hunter said, looking carefully around a corner before gesturing for Obi-Wan to follow him.  “She thought you might need it.” 

 

“Thank you, though I would kill for a lightsaber right about now,” Obi-Wan sighed.  

 

“You and me both kid,” Fett snorted.  

 

They walked carefully down the next corridor, the oppressive feeling in the air weighing heavily on them both.  

 

“This isn’t right,” Fett finally snapped under his breath.  “We should have at least seen a droid by now. I haven’t seen anyone beside the two Sith.”  

 

“Are they both still here?”  Obi-Wan didn’t think so - he’d be able to sense the Master after their earlier introduction, but wanted to be sure.  

 

Fett shook his head.  “The creepy one in the robes left just before I came in,” he explained.  “It’s just the Zabrek.” 

 

“The apprentice,” Obi-Wan murmured.  

 

Fett gave him a sidelong glance.  “You okay for this?” 

 

Obi-Wan gave him a surprised look.  

 

“Hey, I may not be a fan of the Jedi, but I do my research.  He killed your master, did he not?” 

 

Obi-Wan nodded, feeling a pang of grief in his chest as he always did when he thought of Qui-Gon Jinn.  “I’ll be fine,” he whispered. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.” 

 

The bounty hunter gave him an amused look.  “Very true.” 

 

They turned round another corridor, as nondescript as the last.  They were nearly out, Obi-Wan knew. Nearly to safety. 

 

“Almost there,” Fett whispered, nodding to a small mark on the wall.  “We’ll be at the entrance in one more turn.” 

 

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his knife, unwilling to relax until they were onboard Fett’s ship and away from this force forsaken planet.  

 

An arm across his chest drew him up short, and he stiffened in alarm as Fett’s force signature radiated fury.  Stepping out from the shadows was a cloaked figure several centimetres taller than him. In his tattooed hand he held the long hilt of a double sided lightsaber.  

 

“Duke Kryze,” Darth Maul sneered, lifting his head to stare at the omega.  He ignited his blades, staring at Obi-Wan with corrupted eyes. “Welcome.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more build up/setting things up then anything, but I definitly laid out a few key plot point :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
